


Recall

by masterofstars



Series: Recall [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of plot, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Porn with Feelings, Post-Recall, Reunion Sex, Shimadacest, Slow Burn, Trans Genji Shimada, i'll tag each chapter with specific warnings so be careful to read those, ill also put what characters are in the chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-07-29 20:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 70,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16271393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofstars/pseuds/masterofstars
Summary: The upset that raged inside of Hanzo Shimada was indescribable. The loss of everything he had ever known sat as a cold, dark shadow cast over his heart. The blood of his own was stained on his hands permanently. His heart a scar that was destined to never heal and always rip open anew. Standing on the snowy platform, in the biting Switzerland wind, Hanzo asks himself for the thousandth time why he chose to accept the imposter’s words at face value.'The world is changing once again Hanzo, and it’s time to pick a side.'





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the preamble to the fanfic - just setting it up and whatnot. This fanfic is going to be LONG. I already have over ten chapters written, and I plan on completing it no matter what! There aren't any warnings for this chapter other than 
> 
> \- contents of the 'Dragons' short  
> \- some talk of violence, very minor
> 
> Enjoy!!<3

The upset that raged inside of Hanzo Shimada was indescribable. The loss of everything he had ever known sat as a cold, dark shadow cast over his heart. Regret washed over him in cold showers whenever his actions reached his mind. Years passed, and blame was still placed - on his father, for being weak under the palm of oppression within his own empire; the Shimada elders, for training him and honing his skills only to pressure and convince him to use them to strike down his own brother; and himself, for following in the footsteps of his father. The night so long ago would never leave him, nor let him rest. The blood of his own was stained on his hands permanently. His heart a scar that was destined to never heal and always rip open anew.

A life of begging for redemption had been accepted. The dragon had resigned himself to his fate, feeling that the punishment was fit. Sometimes, he found himself wondering if it was enough. If it was equal to the suffering he inflicted upon the one who had always trusted and looked upon him for guidance and example. Leaving the empire was not a question. There was no debate or arguments within his heart. He would not proudly lead the ones who had tainted his family and caused such distress. Whatever happened to the empire was no longer priority. It held no purpose and no place to him anymore. Why continue to uphold a legacy, a heritage, a home that no longer housed the only one worth protecting?

A decade passed with no relief. Year after year, Hanzo would return on the anniversary of the night that his life fell to shambles. Every year the castle would greet him with different levels of security that he took as a way to garner information on the status of the empire’s power. It’s grasp on Hanamura, and Japan, waned and waxed as the times changed.

It was no longer his business. None of it was. His only goal was to gain entry and pay his respect, pour all of it out in honor of the fallen heir that his spirits mourned so loudly. No one could stop him. Not the security or guards, not the replaced oyabun himself. Certainly not a man of metal that dared to speak of his brother and their past as if entitled to it. 

To fight within the walls of the temple once more unsettled and turned his stomach into knots, but too much was at stake. His own life and the respect that was deserved in such a place hung on the balance. 

Genji did not deserve an assassin shamelessly defiling his memory. His brother’s deceased spirit would not be so foully disrespected. The ancient dragons under his skin roared and reared in response to the intruder in a way he had not felt in ages. The ripple of his skin itched with their need to escape. 

The surprise of their true intent as well as the dawn of realization fell Hanzo to his knees. It wasn’t a pull to fight the man in front of him that rattled his dragons, but the pull to unite; to join once more and fill his soul with a warmth so familiar and so achingly sweet. 

It was impossible. It had to be. The memory of the other’s body lifeless upon the floor of the temple was branded into his mind in a way that seemed impossible to sway. No matter the content that rolled through his spirit or the warm wetness that blurred his vision, whatever had stood in front of him was not his brother…

Standing on the snowy platform, in the biting Switzerland wind, Hanzo asks himself for the thousandth time why he chose to accept the impostor's words at face value. 

_ The world is changing once again Hanzo, and it’s time to pick a side. _ __   
  


The words echo once more and draw a shiver through his spine. Or maybe, it’s the freezing climate that wracks his body with bone deep trembling. The jacket he wears just barely covers his chin from the onslaught and leaves his face to bare the brunt of it. 

Standing outside Overwatch Swiss Headquarters getting cold feet might just get him killed. 

The steps towards the building are numbed by the cold and it somehow makes it easier to accept what he’s actually walking towards. Just beyond those walls is an entirely changed life. Perhaps a liar dragging him to his death, or maybe worse - his brother, with the jagged scars across his face that Hanzo had caught a glimpse of. Ghosts walk the halls of Overwatch’s revived ranks, but the ghosts that haunt the eldest dragon ceaselessly are deemed far worse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- implied panic attack  
> \- general mental illness on hanzo's part  
> \- Tracer and Winston are in this chapter!
> 
> ALSO! the last part of the chapter is from genji's POV. there will be a part at the end of each chapter that's from his point of view, but it won't be anything that further's plot or anything necessary. just fun bits of extras.
> 
> i thought i would post the next chapter sooner than scheduled just because the first chapter doesn't have much to it other than review of the dragons short.

Even if the horrors within are true, the warmth that immediately greets Hanzo inside the building is heaven sent. As soon as the large door closes behind him he starts to feel himself thaw out. His fingers curl and uncurl at his side and around the Stormbow clutched tightly beside him.

The interior of the building matches the exterior in size; huge, vast openness has his eyes scanning wearily. A large desk to one side, halls leading into the depths of the base, and a general sense of disuse. And… no one in sight. That’s the most off putting of it all. You would think a place like this would have someone at the front and security posted. If it was so easy for Hanzo to walk in, what would stop anyone from barging in and attacking the base at its core? Shoddy defense protocols. 

As he walks forwards the heavy boots he wears over his prosethcis clunk on the floor and fill the empty space. Further means to put him at unease. Perfect. Tension grows in his shoulders the further he enters the building. The layout in front of him is no help whatsoever in trying to figure out where to go. There are no signs, or labels on most of the doors that he can see. Some of the halls look daunting and dark in their depths and others are dimly lit with halos of white light installed above in the ceiling. Outside, the wind howls and whistles in muted waves. Hanzo never considered himself easily spooked, but in the circumstances he’s in, he might have to rethink that. 

The bow at his side is held tightly as he chooses one of the lit hallways to embark down. Hints of sound are enough to have the hair raising at the back of his neck. Logically, it’s the steel of the structure settling or groaning with age, or something falling and making the barest hints of sound. It still unnerves him enough to chance a look over his shoulder. Nothing. Open air.

“Hiya!” 

The scream that Hanzo lets out is absolutely visceral. Instinct forces his body into action and within the second he turns with his bow raised with the bowstring straining against his hold, arrow resting between limber fingers. 

Somehow, the figure in front of him dodges the arrow with relative ease.

“Hey now, play nice, would you?” The voice is accented and high in it’s enthusiasm. The person  _ was _ in front of him, he knows it, but now she’s a few feet away with a hand raised up in a wave. She’s small, much smaller than himself, with short hair that sticks out at odd miss matched directions. Her attire is surprisingly casual in a t-shirt and what appears to be either sleep pants or sweatpants. Through the fabric of the t-shirt there’s a bright blue glow centred on her chest. She’s smiling, and quite possibly the oddest person he’s seen.

Hanzo nocks a new arrow, his bow not lowering for a second as the woman continues. 

“You chose a mighty bad time to arrive, mate! Middle of the night isn’t spectacular visiting hours. Of course, Athena tipped us off as soon as you came in but  _ some  _ of us would rather catch a few winks than be the welcome committee.” She talks a mile a minute with a hand poised on her hip. The informality of it all is jarring. 

“You are… from Overwatch?” Hanzo asks, his voice even but skeptical in his curiosity. Still with his arrow aimed, of course.

Her nod is brisk. “Lena Oxton, Overwatch agent and your reprieve from the uniformed hot shots. Winston had the intel. Little birdie told him you would need a warm welcome!” 

Everything this woman, ‘Lena’, says succeeds in confusing Hanzo further. His lip curls in distaste. “I will not fall to cheap tricks.”

“Oh, I know. We know. No tricks here. I wager you would have rather had your brother here for the meet and greet and I get that. He’s probably out like a light right about now.” 

Before she can continue he cuts her off.

“ _ My brother  _ should face me himself.” The words are almost spat out and they are clearly accusatory and disbelieving of the insistence of his brother being alive.

Lena’s expression falls from a grin to a softer smile and her eyes gain what he interprets as the sweet kind of pity that rots teeth. “Hanzo-“

“Enough! If he is here let him stand before me.” Hanzo hisses the words. 

“Alright, alright, keep your trousers out of a twist.” Her eyes roll in a way that portrays her age. “I’ll take you to him.” 

Slowly, the tension on his bow loosens as he lowers it halfway. He nods once. “Take me there.” 

Her smile spreads across her face again as they start towards where his brother supposedly is. The scenery remains much of the same but the eerie atmosphere is shattered by Oxton’s continuous stream of chatter. Hanzo stopped trying to keep up a few minutes in and instead he memorizes the route they’re taking. A quick escape is preferable in case things turn south - more south? He can’t quite gauge the situation. Lena’s size and demeanour give the illusion of harmlessness, but he knows better. No average man could even hope to evade the arrow he let loose on her and yet here she is in front of him. If they hope to use her as a distraction it won’t work. His focus is narrowed to one thing and one thing only, which is promised to be at the end of their walk.

The door that Lena pushes open leads into a large, partly domed room. Numerous screens line one side of the room, all softly glowing blue holograms with the same logo in the centre of all of them. The other side opens into a more spacious space that holds a grand table and a large, empty wall. The insignia on the floor tells him that this room is, or was, important. With the room not quite fully lit it’s hard to get a good look at everything. The general size, and the locations of all the doors is comprehensible, though. That’s all he needs. The last detail in the room is in the centre of the semi-done. It looks like a desk, a slightly messy desk that makes his nose wrinkle up.

The desk doesn’t hold his attention for long when the occupant of it is a gorilla - to the best of Hanzo’s knowledge. Just as Lena had, the… person? Animal? Shocks Hanzo into a defensive stance. One foot forward, one braced at a slight angle behind him. As instinctual as breathing at this point.

The action has Lena stifling giggles beside him. His own expression twists in annoyance, but more interestingly, with his eyes trained on the animal in front of him he sees the expression on its face change to one of reprimand - gentle, with clear amusement underlying it. The familiarity and companionship between them is tangible. Uncomfortable. Not what he expects and not what he wants to be seeing. Genji still is nowhere to be seen.

“What is the meaning of this?” Hanzo growls out to the two as the gorilla stands on all fours and approaches even with the bow tentatively raised at it.

“Welcome to Overwatch, Mr.Shimada.” The gorilla speaks and Hanzo physically jolts, eyes wide. “I’m Winston, acting leader of Overwatch for the time being.”

The respect afforded to him by… Winston is in stark contrast to the meeting in the foyer with Lena. The agent stands further off, leaning against the table and quiet after the look from Winston. Hanzo’s mind struggles to wrap around everything happening. Overwatch is being temporarily led by a money, employs giggly girls in pajamas, and is stationed in a ghost town of a headquarters building. None of it makes sense.

“Where is Genji?” The name still smarts on his tongue even after all the years.

“Sleeping, I assume.” Winston’s deep voice has hints of the same amusement as Lena’s, but the seriousness behind it is unmistakable. He’s treading carefully, as he should be. “I was hoping to talk to you first. Things are different than they were, before the fall. Whatever you may know about Overwatch has changed. If you’re here, I’d bet you came with a lot of questions.”

Hanzo listens with a critical ear. Winston is choosing his words carefully, but Hanzo doesn’t need to be told to know that Overwatch must be in a sad state. Back when he was still studying under the watchful eye of his father, he was taught first how to act, speak, deal, and survive in the harsh realities of the business behind the empire’s success. Dark partnerships and questionable practises were hidden behind cover up operations. It wasn’t surprising to find out, but it complicated the teachings that he was receiving, morally. After he had swallowed his pride and accepted the shady business practises, he had been informed. In his father’s office they would sit and Hanzo would listen to the details of partnerships, most of which teetered on the edge of true loyalty. Within those discussions Overwatch had been brought up. Formidable organization, his father had said. A collection of soldiers ready to take on the omnic crisis and crime around the world, created by the United Nations and led by known super soldiers. Bits and pieces of information were missing, but it was enough to form an image in his mind of how the organization would be. Whatever it was that he had just walked into fails to match up with his expectations. 

“If you could,” Winston starts. “I would prefer the conversation be unarmed and as civil as possible.”

The size of the animal before him makes him much more hesitant to lower the bow this time around. Onyx eyes glances from Winston to Lena where she is watching the interaction with what looks like muted enthusiasm. Hanzo is cautious as he let’s stress loose and the bow points at the floor at his side once more.

“Okay. Speak.” Hanzo’s thick accent comes through the short, english answers.

“Perfect.” Winston moves right past him towards the table where Lena is slouched. A motion to the chairs communicates that he wants Hanzo to follow, which he does cautiously. Sitting down at the table feels strange. It looks as if it was used to conduct meetings, probably with the most important officials of the organization. He can imagine the men and women gathered around it to discuss plans and missions, and now, he sees before him Lena jumping into one of the chairs to his left while Winston stands to his right. 

“As you probably know, Overwatch was disbanded after an attack on this very headquarters. A mission was compromised and the Blackwatch division became known to the public. The mission involved the terrorist organization, Talon. It was theorized that the bombing of the headquarters was Talon’s doing, and it inspired a Blackwatch member to go rogue. Instead of keeping the mission a stealth only mission, a man from Talon with the name Antonio was shot down. 

Overwatch became controversial. It’s usefulness and contributions were questioned, and deemed unnecessary by many. The organization was disbanded after what was ruled an accidental explosion. In reality, the divide within the ranks reached a tipping point and a battle within the building triggered the explosion. Ever since then, these walls have remained empty and cold. Until now.” Winston pauses, but the pause is pregnant.

Hanzo has followed along easily so far. Most of it was common knowledge at the time. He can’t place exactly where he was at the times of the events, but when he first left the clan he had checked the news frequently for any mention that might mean bad news for him. The news had been all over the omnic crisis and the issues with Overwatch. Most people hated the organization, but if what Winston says is true, then perhaps it was misguided and misinformed hatred. He stays weary, still. The mere existence of Blackwatch is sketchy by default, but… he can’t say much considering his own history with much, much worse things. It makes him think. If Genji is here, what does he have to do with all of this? Why would he join Overwatch? The Genji he knew never would have even considered it. His Genji had no adherence to such matters. He was easygoing and unreserved in his interests and opinions. When would he have joined and… how? How was it even possible for him to be able to stand and fight as he did in Hanamura? Hanzo remembers the damage - irreversible and grotesque. His stomach rolls just thinking about it. 

“Now that Talon is making a spectacle of itself again, the world needs Overwatch. Innocent people will continue to die with Talon carrying out their plans.” The gorilla continues over Hanzo’s thoughts and draws him back to attention.

“What does Genji have to do with any of this?” Even if he racks his brain, Hanzo can’t figure out why he, or Genji, would care about the story Winston is feeding him. Other than a sense of humanity. Maybe a hero complex, which Hanzo doesn’t possess.

Lena and Winston share a look across the table when the question is asked. Something is silently communicated, creating a slight aggravation in Hanzo. These people aren’t trustworthy, and he won’t let himself stop being on edge. 

Winston clears his throat before speaking again. “I don’t think that particular story is mine to share.”

The answer further frustrates the dragon. The coiling of the spirit within him is manageable, but his own impatience is less so. He didn’t travel all this way for a recruitment speech. No matter what Genji had said about choosing sides, that isn’t his main goal. That can come later. Months were spent with curiosity and longing clutching at his insides, crawling up his throat ravenously. If his brother was alive, he had to see it. Really, truly see it. Hanamura wasn’t nearly enough to saite his need for there to be no doubt whatsoever. 

He’s there for Genji, and he thinks he’s made that pretty clear since he got there. Yet they’re withholding for some reason. 

He grinds his jaw and speaks slow, enunciating each word. “I want to see him.”

“You should get some shut-eye first, love.” Lena pipes up from where she’s been sitting silent the entire conversation. “Just three more hours and he’ll be up anyways. If you freshen up and catch a few winks first it would-”

“Is his sleep so important that you cannot interrupt it for his own brother?” There’s a bite to his words that he knows is awful, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s waited too long already and his patience is wearing thin. 

“Lena,” Winston grabs her attention. “You go get him. I’ll pour Mr.Shimada… Tea? Coffee?”

The question is directed at Hanzo but he’s busy following Oxton’s movements as she leaves the room. In the corner of his eye he watches Winston. Only when the woman is gone does he fully look to the other again. It almost makes him scoff to think the man wants to offer him a drink, as if this is an everyday interaction where social standards apply. Though… even with the warmth of the heated building, he can still feel the memory of the ice cold on his skin outside.

“Tea… please.” He hesitates. It feels weird to use pleasantries with someone who he’s annoyed up the wall with, but it also feels far too weird to  _ not  _ use them. The whole thing sits strangely now that the room is quiet, save for the soft rustling and rummaging as Winston prepares the tea. Hopefully properly. 

Minutes pass and Lena still hasn’t returned. The Stormbow has to be put down on the table, regretfully, to take the mug offered to him. It might be worth it just for the feeling of the hot porcelain on his palms and fingers stiff from too long in the cold. The tea is subpar, but no comment is made on it. No comments are made at all. The silence settles over the room like a thin layer of dust. After another five minutes Winston excuses himself from the table with a nod and untrusting glances follow him back to the desk where he situates himself again. He looks tired, like Lena had when she first spoke to him. He wonders what time it is…

The sound of the door opening again makes Hanzo dart his eyes over. The door opens and the sound of light chatting follows until it abruptly dies off, cut from the source. Lena is there with a look on her face that he can’t distinguish. It doesn’t matter, not when his brother is standing next to her.

There’s no doubt that it’s the man who followed and attempted to negotiate in Hanamura. The armor that shapes down his torso and limbs is the same off white, with the rings of green illuminating the dim room a foot or so around his person. 

But that isn’t want makes Hanzo’s breath stop in his chest, constricting in a way that awakens an entirely new ache inside of him. 

The mask is gone again. The same armor… No. It’s not armor. Whatever it is, it frames his face and jaw, up into his hair. The same spark of green that makes his gut clench. Even from where he sits he can see the dark black of his roots showing where it’s grown out and he hasn’t touched it up. It’s pushed back and mused with sleep, not exactly as long as it used to be but too similar all the same. The scars that adorn his face make it worse. They’re ugly things that gash across his face vertically, even through an eyebrow  - a darker tone than the rest of his skin and clearly healed with time. His jaw doesn’t match it. It’s not his skin tone but something foreign and  _ wrong. _ It melds into the rest of his face yet it’s too dark black to look anything but synthetic. One of his arms doesn’t have the same deep color as the rest under the white plating, instead showing bare skin. Criss-crossed with the same scars as his face. The shorts he’s wearing are loose with a ridiculous pachimari pattern. 

Hanzo feels himself shake. Genji’s eyes are on him. Not the deep, dark brown ones he knew so well. Something else, a mimicry of the original. 

Everything escalated too quickly even as nothing and no one in the room moves. The emotions that rampage through him are indistinguishable from each other; shock, disgust, anxiety, self-hatred, longing. The last one he knows. Deja vu to Hanamura. The dragons run wild and burn his tattoo under his jacket hotly. They urge him forward; roar and beg for him to do something to get closer to the other dragon across the room. 

All the doubt is wiped away. Hanzo would know that look anywhere. The rest… his age, his height, everything else that isn’t Genji, it doesn’t change the look of him just awoken and still sleepy. Still wanting to keep tucked against Hanzo’s neck even when he had to get up and ready. The ache returns tenfold and he has to push a noise down his throat.

Genji’s lips twitch, a little movement at the edge of them before he’s smiling. “Hanzo.”

_ “Took you long enough.” _ The comment is spoken in Japanese as Hanzo stares at the words formed on Genji’s lips. It’s entirely Genji, just like him to tease him first thing after not seeing him for a few years, but the tone isn’t. The Japanese comes out in the same calm way, with a mechanical edge to it. Admittedly, it’s less prominent without the mask on. 

Hanzo doesn’t know what to do. Answering would be good, probably. The fear of his voice betraying him is far too great for him to even try. The tightness in his throat would be treacherous and choke him up. The silence draws on as Hanzo scrambles to get his brain back together. It doesn’t work well. 

Apparently, it’s not an issue to the younger. Genji turns his head to smile at Tracer before walking further into the room. The closer he gets, the more Hanzo’s ribcage feels like a painful prison. His brother’s walk is different from the confident sway that he used to flaunt. It’s elegant. Hanzo has seen omnics that move in jarring, inhuman ways that don’t apply here. Genji moves like… like he’s grown up. Like there’s no difference between the legs he has now and the ones he was born with.

Eyes are on them both and Hanzo can feel it on the back of his neck, raising the short shaved hair there. In his peripherals he can see Lena walk past them as if they’re just another two people, having a conversation, making small talk. How is she doing that when Hanzo himself feels like the world is suddenly crashing and pushing pressure all over his body? His tattoo is white hot with Genji walking closer. How is Genji smiling like that? Smiling at the one who made him the way he is, who tore him down slice by agonizing slice in his own home. Genji trusted him back then and he saw it in his eyes that night, and the same look is settled in the wide black irises that stay on him. As if Genji could ever trust him after what he did. 

Genji is in front of him all too soon. His head tilts up to meet his gaze from where he sits and dizziness sets in. The chair is far too loud along the smooth floor as he hastily stands up and almost knocks the damn chair over. 

Genji is still taller than him even when standing. 

As the chair almost falls and Hanzo almost stumbles, his brother, who is still alive and standing in front of him, reaches out as if to steady him. To touch him. The cry of his dragons is downright shrill at the thought of it. Yet Hanzo quickly steps back and presses his palm flat to the table to try and ground himself. He doesn’t see how Genji reacts with the partially loose hair at the front blocking his view with his head down. The eyes are back on him, if they ever left.

“Hanzo. Hey,” The synth version of Genji’s voice starts to speak softer. 

There is no way he can be afforded that kind of tone. Softness isn’t something he should be getting from him, not from Genji. Guilt coils hot and sickly in his stomach and he doesn’t understand it, any of it. That night in their old home, Genji had plainly said that he forgave him, but he hadn’t taken it for a truth. Now standing in front of him it’s not just in his words but in his actions. There’s a screaming at the forefront of his mind: he doesn’t deserve it. 

With a deep breath Hanzo sharply turns away from Genji to face where Lena and Winston are obviously eavesdropping. “I would like to rest.” His voice is too sharp even to his own ears but it’s the only way he trusts himself not to sound like how he feels. The harshness of it is confirmed when Lena trips over herself to nod and search the desk frantically. 

Stormbow is stolen off the table with a short huff of breath from his lungs that seem to burn with the ache in his chest. He doesn’t wait for Lena to start walking towards the door that she and Genji had come from. The temptation to look back is too much. Everything feels tense and he has to grind his teeth hard to get through the fit the spirits are throwing at him so loud he can’t even hear himself think. Genji says something behind him and his fingers curl tighter around his bow. 

With a flash of blue light in the corner of his eye Lena appears by his side and quickly opens the door. This time Hanzo doesn’t wait for her to go first. The danger of having her at his back is the last thing on his mind. Her presence at his side while she leads through the halls again is hardly acknowledged. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t catch the glances at him she’s stealing way too often, though. He wonders what he must look like. Hopefully not as hellish as everything feels. He came here ready for any outcome, or at least he had told himself he was ready for it. At the back of his mind he had always silently shut down the hope that his brother could ever actually be alive by some miracle. This threw him hard into a steel wall of truth. 

Lena stops and Hanzo is almost lost enough in his thoughts to run right into her. Luckily her arm goes up and he sees it, as well as the keycard dangling from the keychain in her hand. No words are exchanged as he holds his hand out and she drops it into it. She looks like she’s about to say something but he stops it in it’s tracks with a quick ‘good night’ and his attention diverted to the door they stopped at. His hands shake as he tries to slide the keycard home and he curses it. If Lena sees it, she thankfully doesn’t say anything. The sound of her footsteps is softly echoed in the long hall, and for a second he lets his shoulders sag. Only once the door is open and he’s in the room with it securely locked does he let himself fall back against the door. The fabric of his jacket bunches up as he slides along the warm metal but he doesn’t care. All of his focus is on his breathing, which picked up the second he finally got alone and secluded, free to throw his vulnerabilities out on the floor without any chance of anyone seeing them.    
  
  


The few hours that remain of the night are longer that should have ever been possible. Knowing that his brother is somewhere out there in the same building as him has Hanzo thrown for a loop. A war rages inside him between needing to see him, needing to feel the solid mass of his brother’s weight in his arms again, and the fact that he should never be allowed to touch Genji again. His blade is what marred his skin and now his fingers should never again be given access to any part of him. Guilt that had lulled to a soft disturbance over the years suddenly becomes an unbearable weight again now that he knows, now that he’s seen the damage first hand and can say without a doubt that he  _ ruined _ the other half of his spirit. All for the sake of a dynasty that never would have been pleased with his performance no matter what he did. Disgust for himself and for the state of his brother mix into a deadly cocktail until he can’t see through any of it. Thoughts blur like the traitorous tears in his eyes blur his vision. 

Only when it blurs does he get any relief from the onslaught of his emotions. The bed in the room is not that comfortable, as most military barrack beds would be. To Hanzo, it’s a five star hotel. Without any access to the funds from the clan, life wasn’t easy. Growing up in wealth made it a harsh awakening to suddenly not have anything at all. He managed to land a job only after leaving the city of Hanamura. The years that stretched on had given him time to settle into a job and a place of his own, but none of it ever meant much. Getting to Switzerland, and to the abandoned headquarters had been a fresh new hell that he’d never known in his life. Now, laid on the bed with his bow, jacket and clothes on the floor, he was thankful just to have the blanket and the slightly above room temperature heat. Sleep hit him like a freight train; no warning, knocking him out cold almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

 

Waking up to Lena Oxton giving his a door a never-ending tirade of little knocks is not a common occurrence for Genji. In fact, it has never happened in all of his time at the newly reformed Overwatch. The cyborg is still mostly asleep when he drags himself out of his bed and opens the door, barely holding back a yawn as he greets his unwarranted visitor. Somehow even in these godly awful early hours of the morning she looks awake and ready to bolt down the hallway without any kind of explanation, other than a half-assed excuse of Winston needing them. Genji might be worried if he isn’t half asleep as she takes his hand to pull him down the hall towards the old Strike Commander’s office where Winston has made residence. 

In his sleepy state Genji knows that he isn’t properly dressed. His left arm lacks armor and his face is uncovered. Sleeping in the extra pieces just isn’t realistic at this point in his life. Now that he’s mostly at peace with his body, he’s also very much at peace with the idea of sleeping comfortably. However, it would have been nice to have some advanced warning might have been nice. If only for the sake of any newbies who may be wandering around. It’s usually a shock to them. 

Unfortunately Lena refuses to tell him anything no matter how much he tries to weedle it out of her. The mischief glitters in her eyes in a way that should not be happening at three o’clock in the morning, but he kind of understands. The closer they get to the massive office, the more Genji can feel the sensation growing under his skin, real and artificial. Soft tingling that spreads and strengthens in an anticipatory hum. 

The woman is pretty near bouncing on her heels when they finally reach the door. His laugh is quiet, but in the empty building it sounds far too loud to him. He’s starting to ask why she’s so excited when she opens the door and gently pushes him forwards with a hand at his back. 

It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the light before he finds himself staring at his brother across the room. He actually did it. Hanzo really actually accepted his offer, or at the very least he considered it if he’s sitting there. The initial shock melts away so quickly that it almost startles him all over again. The warmth that floods through him is fuzzy and familiar in a way he didn’t think he would be able to experience again.

“Hanzo.” He breathes the name out far too happily.  _ “Took you long enough.” _

Their last interaction left him hopeful, but not entirely optimistic. Hanzo had been so unwilling to cooperate in stark contradiction of his apparent loyalty he still held to his ‘fallen’ brother. Anger and resentment had been thrown his way so carelessly, with pain dripping from each of Hanzo’s words and movements. It was eerie similar to the rage he had once seen in his own eyes. 

Now, Hanzo sat before him looking entirely different. Instead of the traditional garb that linked him to their past, he wears a sporty jacket and pants tucked into boots. His hair is so incredibly unlike him with the sides and back shaved, the only reminder of it’s original state is the way that it’s tied back with a silk ribbon and strands of hair at the front falling down onto his face. The prominent cheekbones clutch his heart and his eyes wander over the strong line of his jaw and the sharply trimmed facial hair he sports. He… He has piercings. The reality of that is awestricking. Earrings on either of his ears reflect the green light coming off his own body as he walks closer, and the bridge of his nose glimmers with a barbell through the skin. The brows above it aren’t pulled tightly and sternly together like they are in the majority of Genji’s memories.

Hanzo is staring up at him like he’s seen a ghost, and he’s not entirely wrong. 

More than anything Genji wants to frame that beautiful jaw with both hands and hold him there just to be able to look at him more. 

Hanzo has other ideas as he practically jumps back from Genji like he’s been burned. The feeling of purring, rolling contentment that filled him at the sight of his brother now falters as he sees what can only be described as panic on Hanzo’s face. It’s close to the look that he saw when he revealed himself to Hanzo but so much more set into his features. 

His spirit rolls uncomfortably at the thought of his brother, once so held together and strong, now practically shaking before him. The need to fix it is overwhelming. “Hanzo, hey.” His voice lowers to stop from spooking him any further. 

It doesn’t work. The elder dragon turns on him so quickly it could have given him whiplash. He doesn’t ask so much as demand rest, and by the looks of it Lena is quick to accommodate. Staring at Hanzo’s back, Genji can see how his shoulders tense and tremble and he can only imagine what’s going through his mind that has him like this. Yearning to reach out and soothe a hand between the shoulder blades in front of him make his stomach tight with nerves. 

Either fortunately or unfortunately, Hanzo is fleeing to the door with Lena close behind.

_ “Wait, Hanzo-”  _ Genji stops when the door closes with a heavy sound that fills the room and reverberates through him.

He stands in shock, both his stomach and his dragon in knots over what just happened. Sensing eyes on him, he looks over to find Winston watching him with a worried, caring look. 

Genji looks away. “He… just needs time.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter because I have zero self control. This one also come with a companion piece, [Burn!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281656). (please please be sure to check the tags on it) Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- violence, fighting  
> \- detailed recollection of Genji's medical history  
> \- emotional breakdowns and angst  
> \- Tracer, McCree, D.Va, Dae-hyun, and Mercy are in this one
> 
> Translations are:  
> liebling: darling  
> hallo: hello  
> oyahou: good morning  
> Armleuchter: fool
> 
> as always, feel free to correct me on anything that isn't english since i don't speak japanese very fluently and i dont speak german at all;;;;;  
> Süße: sweetheart or likewise petnames, from my understanding

The small, enclosed space of Hanzo’s room magnifies the knocks on his door that jolt him awake in a cold sweat. The sound isn’t inherently loud or violent, but it rattles him awake from a deep sleep and rouses him into the unfamiliar darkness of the room. His mouth feels dry and full of cotton as he sits up and pushes his loose hair back from his face. The clothes from yesterday are scattered around the floor and probably far too wet and dirty to put back on after the trek to the headquarters. He groans internally.

The muscles of his thighs protest as he rises and walks across the short space to open the door just a sliver - just enough to see the same woman from yesterday. Lena, if he remembers correctly. The pajamas that she had initially worn when they met have been replaced with a skin tight sfuit that looks sleek and functional underneath a jacket that doesn’t quite reach her waist. The orange matches her rich brown hair nicely, he thinks absently while his eyes wander down the source of the blue light he had seen last night. It’s a halo of energy that glows a soft, radiating light in the white divot that holds it. Only when he lowers his eyes further does he notice that her arms are full of neatly folded fabric - probably clothes if he had to guess. Her smile is just as sunny as before.

“Mornin’ to ya, love!” Lena says chipperly. “Or, more like noon but not an issue. Can’t imagine how much it took to get here. I wouldn’t intrude but I thought some food would do well to fuel you up! Lunch is being served in just a pinch in the mess hall. No pressure but it’d be good to have you there.

“Here.” She thrusts the pile of clothes forwards and he has to accommodate properly to keep the door still covering the fact that he’s standing there in only boxers. “It should fit. You can throw yesterday’s into the laundry chute and it will be taken care of.”

“Thank you.” Once more his reply is short and choppy in response to her unyielding optimism. He takes the clothes from her arms and she smiles wide at him. 

“Don’t mention it.” A wink accompanies her words and then in a flash she’s gone. The hallway in front of him is left deserted where she stood seconds before. Hanzo hates the confusion it leaves behind every time.

The door closes with a heavy thud and a click, and he’s alone once again. Now that he’s awake he takes inventory of all his aches and the headache tearing at his sinuses above his eyes. Idiotically, he forgot to take off his prosthetics and is now paying the price for it, along with the rest of his worn out muscles. The clean clothes are set on the edge of the cot and the rest are gathered from the floor, promptly thrown into the panel on the wall that he finds after a quick search. All except for his jacket. That is hung up properly on some hooks that protrude from the wall near the small excuse for a closet. It’s more like a locker than anything else. 

His eyes fall onto the clothes that had been delivered to him. A short breath forces it’s way from his lungs past his lips. The tshirt at the top of the pile is a deep, nearly black navy blue and fits him well enough, if a little tightly around the shoulders. The pants look to be military issue fatigues that he’s seen somewhere before. Probably on government operatives, possibly even those employed by Overwatch. A quick look under them grants him the relief that whoever had put the ensemble together had thought to add a pair of briefs with it as well. Whether it was Lena or someone else, he’s thankful. With the rest put on he slips back into his heavy boots and glances to his jacket. Technically, it’s warm enough within the facility that he shouldn’t need it. The issue isn’t in warmth, but in the fact that the tshirt does little to cover up the intricate blue ink that adorns his left arm. Once upon a time he showed it off proudly for the world to see. Now it set an unease at the bottom of his stomach to think about leaving the room with the majority of it uncovered. 

Oh well. He can suffer through the bit of discomfort. The tie for his hair is snatched and he carefully pulls his hair back into the high ponytail he prefers. Onyx eyes glance to Stormbow… but leave it where it sits on the floor near the door. As much as he wants to take it with him into the unknown areas of the headquarters, he doesn’t know if other agents will respond to him being armed as well as Lena and Winston did. 

A breath rattles through him. A new days worth of courage collects in Hanzo to set his jaw and keep his shoulders high as he leaves the room, locking it and stashing the keycard into one of the pockets on the pants he was given. 

The hall he’s in is still quiet and empty, but now that the light of day shines down onto the base, things are different. The sounds of other people are distant but nonetheless present. He can pick up indistinct talking as well as what he assumes is people working, or doing… something. What do the agents of Overwatch do now that their ranks are so scattered and numbers so little? The voices pull him in the right direction in his venture to find this cafeteria that Lena had mentioned. He hadn’t noticed his hunger until his stomach gave a low, inaudible rumble the closer he seemed to get. People began to appear around him. Some standing to the side of the hall speaking amongst themselves, some walking past with holo pads held in their hands and their eyes downcast. Many more people than Hanzo had thought there would be based on last night. 

He ends up stopping and interrupting a young woman sat against the wall working on something distinctly mechanical in her lap. Directions to the cafeteria are willingly given with a light smile that he gives a nod and a quick thanks to. 

 

The directions prove true when he happens upon the double doorway. Hesitancy pulls him to stay just out of sight while peering in. There’s more people than he would have thought, again. The large hall still looks stunningly empty with only around thirty or so people occupying it. Some are clad in the same kind of fatigues that he is, with or without a matching jacket, meanwhile others are dressed more casually or with more originality as he had seen with Lena. The smell of the food isn’t what he’s used to but it’s no surprise. It smells savory, though. It makes his mouth water where he stands. Hunger tries to him forward but anxiety keeps him in place. His eyes roam the seated agents until he finds what he’s looking for. 

Genji is sat on the far end of the mess hall at a table with a handful of others. He’s between a woman with a soft complexion and blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail, and a man with sun-kissed skin and the most ridiculous attire he has ever seen. Even more ridiculous than Lena had looked standing in her pajamas in the foyer. Is he… seriously wearing a cowboy hat? Who does that in nearly 2080? Both Hanzo’s eyebrows pull together and wrinkle the skin above and around his bridge piercing. Genji has his mask off again, presumptuously to be able to eat, but his hair is covered by what is either black fabric or a helmet. At the back of his head there’s… a bow. The length of fabric that he had seen tied at the back of that helmet when they met in Hanamura is now tied behind him in a bow that is equal parts cute and ridiculous. From this far away his face isn’t discernible, but he could guess what it looks like based on how he laughs at something the cowboy beside him says. 

Suddenly he feels the same as he did fifteen years ago as he watched Genji at the gates of the clan’s castle with his handful of friends. All carefree, young and looking ready for a night out in the streets of their city. Genji’s smile would shine brightly as he greeted and laughed with them. It feels the same; it feels like he’s intruding on his brother’s life as he thinks on going over. 

He’s debating whether or not to go back to his room when his name yelled across the room - jarring and too loud - grabs his attention and widens his eyes. Not only his attention, but everyone else’s as well. His hiding isn’t as good as he had thought.

It wasn’t Genji’s new voice that yelled. It was a deep, thick voice that rivaled even his own for it’s timbre. The man beside Genji is waving a large hand over his head. A look to the side is all it takes for Hanzo to see his brother trying to shove the man’s hand back down. The muscles in Hanzo’s jaw twitch.   
  


If he turns away now it won’t look very good on his character. Going over there to talk might also not look good on his character, considering talking to strangers isn’t his strong suit. He knows it’s not, especially when Genji would be right there looking at him. But he can see them, how their mouths move in a way that’s probably talking about him. 

Hanzo gathers courage and steels himself to walk towards the table. The closer he gets, the more details he can make out. The cowboy has unruly facial hair and a playful way to all his actions. The blonde woman is in a pristine white lab coat over a modest turtleneck, and her eyes move between him and Genji in a way that makes him feel like she knows. Maybe she does. Genji isn’t looking at him, thankfully. His attention is on wrestling the cowboys arms, the man laughing far too loudly for such a public place. 

“I  _ will  _ kill you, Jesse. I swear, I mean it this time.” Genji’s voice gets within earshot. The smile in it makes his heart contract painfully. 

“Uh huh,” The man, Jesse, blows off Genji’s threat completely. His voice is thick and dripping like sweet honey. “Sure you will, darlin’. We both know you’d miss me too damn much.” 

There’s another two people sitting at the table, but both of them seem inraptured in their own conversation. He can’t catch what they’re saying as they both speak in terms he doesn’t understand. The language he understands just fine; he learned Korean very early on in his life. It’s the technical jargon that muddles it for him. Both the young woman and the young man have black hair. The woman’s cheeks are adorned with triangular pink marks that remind him of a cat’s whiskers, and the man beside her has oil stained on his wrists and arms. 

It’s the blonde woman who speaks first as he approaches the table.  _ “ _ _ Hallo.”  _ Her voice is a pleasant chime that manages to break up the playful swatting that’s going on beside her. Hanzo assumes it was a greeting even if he doesn’t speak the language that he recognized throughout the country on his way there. 

“Hello.” Hanzo nods a short greeting in return, ignoring his heart beating rapidly. 

Without the cowboy distracting him, his brother’s eyes latch onto him. The smile that tugs at his lips tugs at Hanzo’s heartstrings in the same manner. The guilt inducing softness is back in those eyes that he still gets caught off guard by. They are so incredibly close to the same, but an uncanny valley effect takes over when they are in contrast to his crystal clear memory of the original ring of dark hazel around the black irises. His spirits switch between purring and revolting against the short distance between them. 

Before he can do anything to sait the beasts, a shadow is cast over him to his left side. The voice that follows is hardly friendly, inching towards challenging instead. The ‘T’ in partner comes off as a ‘D’ sound instead because of the awfully cliche southern accent.  “Howdy, partner.”

Jesse stands to his side in a way that he’s sure is supposed to be menacing. His broad chest puffs out the smallest amount in a challenge. The honey in his voice from before matches up with the honey-flecked hazel of his eyes when Hanzo trails his eyes upwards. The scent of tobacco and rusty terrain emanates so strongly from the man that even with a foot of space between them he catches a huge whiff of it. Jesse is taller, and has an intimidating figure under the chest of armor and his thin long sleeved shirt. It might not be on purpose, but he’s putting himself between the two dragons in a way that reeks of protectiveness. It must be common knowledge within Genji’s social group. 

“Jesse,” Genji’s hand comes into view on one of Jesse’s biceps. The slim, finely shaped fingers squeeze the muscle gently. “Not necessary.”

Honeyed eyes stay on Hanzo’s face even as the cowboy lowers himself back into his seat at Genji’s implied request. Not happily, if the scowl on his face means anything. Behind him, Genji is still smiling. 

_ “Ohayou.”  _ Both of his dragons rumble in unison at the sweet greeting. It’s no longer morning, but it doesn’t matter. Genji’s attention stays on him. If Hanzo didn’t know better he would say that Genji’s appraising him with his gaze. After a few silent seconds his brother turns back to his companions. “Everyone, this is Hanzo. Hanzo, this is Jesse, Angela, Hana, and Dae-hyun.” 

Each person at the table is introduced in turn and he receives a few curious looks and nods of acknowledgement. Jesse doesn’t seem pleased about it. The two who were conversing in Korean before now look upon him with polite curiosity. Stranger yet, the woman with the nice voice and the lab coat looks at him with a friendly, caring look that he can’t understand. Angela. She’s sitting closer to Genji than even Jesse is, and her green eyes hold such a comfortable gaze on him that it could be confused for a past familiarity. He knows he’s never met her but there’s no curiosity in her look or her face. One of her hands pats the seat on her free side welcomingly. 

All the different looks follow him as Hanzo stiffly makes his way around the table to take a seat by the doctor’s side. It’s the closest he’s been to Genji so far and the warm, content feeling it brings to his spirits is enough to soothe the nerves brought on by the cowboy’s glare. The two young adults across the table have already gone back to chatting and filling the silence with their voices. While he’s taking in the setting, Genji and Angela exchange a few words in his peripherals. 

Genji stands and moves from between his two friends. “I will get you lunch. Sit tight.” His smile pierces Hanzo again and all he can do is nod. 

After a long few seconds Angela speaks. “Your brother has told me about you.” The statement sends panic like a lightning strike up his spine that she ignores in favor of keeping going. “I didn’t expect you two to look so alike. He’s described you but of course, it’s a whole other thing to see face to face.”

She smiles kindly and confuses Hanzo so completely. What is he supposed to say to that? Genji talks about him? … How often?

Angela seems okay with his silence. “Genji told you my name already. My full title is Doctor Angela Ziegler. I am the former head of medical research. I’ve been a friend of your brother a long time. It’s very nice to finally meet you.”

Her smile never wavers. Head of medical research sounds like a prestigious title to have, even if it is now formerly. The doctor looks to be around his age. His thoughts reel to put things together. If she was employed by Overwatch before the fall, and has been friends with Genji ‘for a long time’, it’s entirely possible that Genji was somehow affiliated with the organization before it’s fall. The idea doesn’t sit well with him, but the realities lead him to the thought that it made sense his brother would be friends with a doctor. His chest tightens again.

“It is nice to meet you, Doctor. Thank you for taking care of my brother.” Hanzo says with a hint of formality in his tone.

The simple thanks brings a small look of surprise to Angela’s face. Her light eyebrows raise slightly and her eyes widen just enough to be noticeable. It all relaxes and smooths out a moment later. Her laugh reminds him of the wind chimes that would hang outside his home and sway in the summer breezes. “No need to mention it. I’m not a miracle worker, not always. Genji is a joy, a prime example of why I do what I do.”

Hanzo recognizes the affection that laces through her words. He can’t blame her. Genji has always had that effect on people. His charms sink into your skin and when his attention is on you it can make you feel like the most loved person in the world. Hanzo has firsthand experience. What he doesn’t entirely understand is what Angela means about Genji being an example. Perhaps his brother shows his appreciation often. Or… something. 

He doesn’t have time to ponder it long before Genji is coming back and setting a tray of food down in front of him. The ink on his arm flares when Genji comes within inches of it but there’s no visible signs of the sweltering heat he feels underneath his skin. Genji says nothing, merely meets his gaze with a look far too knowing for his liking. 

“Has she bored you to death with her doctor talk, Hanzo?” The teasing in his brother’s voice is reminiscent of their youth while he passes behind him to return to his seat. 

“Hey!” Angela fakes a wounded gasp with a dainty hand held to her chest in dismay.

Joining in on their fun feels too intrusive. Not answering Genji feels worse. “No. We were talking about you.”

That shuts Genji up for only half a heartbeat. “About me?” His smile roams from being directed at Angela, then to Hanzo himself. “Good things, I hope.” 

“Always,  _ liebling _ .” 

“Yes.” Hanzo agrees.

Hanzo can’t look at Genji for too long when he beams in the way that he does. His gaze moves downwards to the food that was placed in front of him. It isn’t anything fancy, nor is it what he’s used to. It’s a bowl of steaming, rich soup with chunks of meat and potatoes. The smell and warmth waft upwards along with the steam. Once his attention is actually on it, he can’t wait longer to dig into it. His stomach won’t let him continue to participate in the conversation and he doesn’t mourn it much. The doctor isn’t unpleasant in the slightest. It’s the way that she makes him feel that causes discomfort within him. It feels like she can see all the raw vulnerability that lays under his hard exterior. 

Most of the meal passes with the conversation around him lulled into a nice background noise while he eats. Everything doesn’t crash and burn around him like he had worried it might. Jesse doesn’t so much as spare another glance his way with Genji holding his attention. Watching genji… it’s enough for Hanzo. Seeing the way his brother is so at ease and relaxed helps him to feel better, too. Each laugh makes his dragons sing. It helps that Genji  _ does _ spare him looks, even if most of the others don’t. His brother glances sidelong at him every now and again with a smile saved for him whether or not he’s being social with the rest. 

It sets it in deeper that Genji meant what he said. Genji might truly want him there.

“Debriefin’ soon, guys.” Jesse’s baritone cuts through the sentiment. The topic shifts into things about Overwatch’s current intel and action plans that Hanzo probably shouldn’t be listening to. Yet they don’t seem very cautious about keeping it from him; The girl named Hana has jumped enthusiastically to Genji’s side as the group stands and Hanzo catches her teasing him with some kind of congratulations that his brother seems to blush at. Out of everyone there, Hana looks the most like the kind of young, eager friends Genji used to have. 

Hanzo stands as well but instead of joining the semi-rowdy group, he turns to return the tray to its rightful place. The break from ‘socializing’ is enough time for him to get in a more relaxed breath. Nothing is necessarily going wrong, per se. It’s merely… more draining than he would have thought after so many years of isolating himself. While walking back to the table, he sees the moment he catches Genji attention. 

“Hanzo!” The excitement in the calling of his name shocks Hanzo. Again, his brother succeeds in shaking him up at even the simplest of things. “Will you come with us to the briefing?”

Hanzo hopes the confusion doesn’t show in his expression. “No. I am not a part of Overwatch.” 

Seeing Genji’s face fall into disappointed confusion makes his stomach clench. With a heavy swallow he sets his jaw just in time. 

“Excuse me?” Jesse’s look of suspicion casts daggers into Hanzo’s torso that he doesn’t let them see. “What d’ya mean ‘not a part of Overwatch’?”

“I mean what I said. I am not a part of Overwatch.” The discomfort of his piercing shifting in his nose returns as he furrows his brow. Maybe he has to be more clear for the cowboy to understand. Obviously the simple statement is too hard for him to comprehend. “I will not be joining you.”

The way Jesse reacts reminds Hanzo of a dog with it’s hackles raised. “Oh really? Cause by the looks of it, you’re here. Showin’ up outta nowhere, stayin’ here, and yet you’re too good to join us, huh?” 

“Jesse…” Hanzo looks to see Genji with worry etched across his features, but Jesse doesn’t hesitate to keep him back with an arm out. 

“No! No,” He downright growls the words out with how deep his voice gets. “If he thinks he can walk in here all high n’ mighty he’s got another thing comin’. Don’t think I don’t know, that we  _ all  _ don’t know what you did, pal. Least you could do is act a li’l sorry about it. If you don’t wanna be part of Overwatch then fine. We don’t enlist murderers.”

“Jesse!” This time it’s the doctor that calls out the behaviour of the cowboy. 

Hanzo barely pays it mind. This idiot, this unsightly American has touched on way too many nerves. Thunderous roaring fills his ears. Both dragons within him surge in blind rage that cannot be quelled by the proximity of their counterpart. It doesn’t matter that all the eyes in the hall are on them, or that this man is apparently friends with his brother. His brother has never had a good eye for choosing the right company. No one has the right to speak to him that way, or even dare to assume his feelings for his brother - or  _ ever  _ call him a murderer. Jesse is at least a foot taller than him, if not more, and looks to be strong enough to hold his own in a fight. There’s no hesitation once Hanzo has made his decision. 

Knuckles collide with the side of Jesse’s face just above his jaw with a sickeningly loud thud. It hurts like hell but Hanzo doesn’t wince or even react while Jesse stumbles to the side from the force of the blow. Sound erupts around them both, from the group around them to the strangers standing by now trying to hide their whispered comments to each other. None of it matters to Hanzo. His gaze stays locked on Jesse and the bruise that’s starting to blossom across his skin. 

“You know  _ nothing. _ ” Hanzo hisses through his teeth as blue starts to flare up behind his eyes. 

When he feels a presence at his side grab onto his arm and start to pull him away from the scene, he’s almost sure it must be Genji. Looking up, he can see his brother staring - with eyes far too sad and way too knowing - from across the distance growing between them. So who's the one practically dragging him out the door?

Hushed German mumbling reaches his ears soon enough. He finally turns from Genji to see a small but strong arm wrapped around his own, belonging to the doctor who had spoken to him like he was an old friend. 

_ “Armleuchter.”  _ Angela shakes her head in a way that reminds him of chastising a child. “The both of you.”

Hanzo has no clue where he’s being led, or if he should be putting a stop to it. A dull, painful ache in his hand is starting to rise to his attention now that the adrenaline of the act is dying down. He hopes it’s ten times worse for the American’s face.   
  
  


They end up on the other side of the base in Angela’s office. Right outside is the medical bay, lined with empty hospital beds and smelling strongly of rubbing alcohol. The office is a small square room that Angela has decorated with a couch against the wall along with her desk. There are framed certificates and aged photos around the room that make it feel more personal. She moves in the room with a comfortable air as Hanzo is told to sit on the couch in a firm voice. The cushion has give under him that would be comfortable, if not for how tense he feels. It’s ridiculous to think that he was being told off like a child who had misbehaved, but it feels like it in the silence of the office. 

“I apologize for Jesse’s big mouth. He has never been good at knowing when to keep to himself.” Angela apologizes, to his sudden surprise. 

Hanzo isn’t sure how to respond. “Yes… well. I hope I could assist in his learning.”

Angela laughs and some of the tension bleeds from the room. He doesn’t think what he said is that funny, but her reaction says otherwise. She’s still shuffling around her desk while they talk. Hanzo had given up trying to figure out what she’s looking for a few minutes ago. When she finds it, her little ‘a-ha’ makes the edges of his lips curl up just slightly. 

The other side of the couch dips down as she takes a seat beside him. In her hands she holds a roll of gauze and alcohol swabs that fill the room with the same scent as outside when she rips the individual packages open. “Hand.” When he looks at her without answering she sighs and reaches for his dominant hand, which sports broken skin around his knuckles just barely bleeding. “You should be careful. Fighting counts as insubordination and is not taken lightly. Right now it’s lenient, but that will change once a commander is chosen.”

The alcohol stings sharply at the abrasions while Angela gently cleans them. Hanzo winces. “Insubordination applies to those under command. Not me.”

“Of course.” She sounds like she doesn’t believe him. “I think we were all under the impression you are here to join us in the fight. Why else come all this way?”

“For Genji.” Hanzo replies instantly, firmly. 

Angela nods, not raising her eyes from her work. “He spoke to me this morning. I’ve known Genji a long time, and been there with him through many things that have happened. I’ve never seen him so excited as he was when he told me about your arrival.”

The information keeps Hanzo quiet. Every time he has seen Genji in the past twenty-four hours, there’s been a smile on his face. Even with the evidence right in front of him, his toxic thoughts pushed away the hope that it was because of him that Genji was so happy. It isn’t realistic to think that he could cause such a thing after what he’s done. 

“... He told me about you two. It surprised me, but I’ve spoken to him many times, at length. It’s an honor to know that he trusted me enough to tell me, and continues to trust me to keep it a secret. I shouldn’t tell you, but it’s only fair for you to know.” Her voice is warm with affection while she unwinds the roll of gauze to begin to wrap it around his hand. “I won’t say everything, as it’s his decision whether to tell you or not. Jesse is overprotective and weary, but I can see it in how you look at Genji. I know you won’t use this against him.

I was the one who operated on your brother once he was transferred to this facility. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the condition he was in. It took over twenty-four hours to get him to the point of stability. Properly merging his heart and remaining organs to the cybernetics took over a month. I questioned whether we were doing the right thing so many times. Our commander was set on the saving of your brother. At first waking up, your brother was furious. I’ve never seen anything like it. I knew only what was on his file and for months he refused to cooperate.” The doctor pauses. The gauze is finished being wrapped and instead of letting his hand go, she keeps holding it as Hanzo tries his best to stop it’s shaking.

He’s not ready to hear this. He may never have been ready to hear about what happened after he had left that temple with his brother mangled and bleeding out onto the polished wood floor. Bile rises to his throat at being told that this woman has seen exactly what he did. The others that are in his brother’s life know of it, but Angela saw it firsthand just as he had. She fixed what terrible damage he had inflicted upon the most important person in his life. She’s telling him something he never wanted to know - how Genji reacted to it. Too many times Hanzo had laid awake, tortured by what Genji’s spirit thought of him. He’s a monster and he knows it, and he could never help but think that Genji thought the same from wherever he was. Now it’s being confirmed. Genji was furious with him. The thoughts spiral so quickly he feels sick with it. 

“He was brought to me, to this wing of the base, after being found one night. He was so upset. I couldn’t understand until he confessed to me. Hanzo, he cried himself sick because he thought you didn’t love him anymore.” Her voice is so quiet now that it verges on a whisper as she squeezes the sides of his hand with her own. 

The words choke him. The thick pain at the back of his throat threatens tears that he refuses to let fall in front of her. What he had done to Genji was worse than killing him. Since finding out that he was still alive, Hanzo hadn’t thought about what that truly meant. Genji has lived his life having to deal with what his own brother did to him. The sound that leaves him is disgustingly raw and embarrassing. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because you need to know.” She smiles at him with so much warmth and understanding. “He hasn’t always been the way that he is now. I cannot count the times he came to me while he was here, his heartache strong enough for everyone around him to feel it. After he told me about you it made sense. Even at his lowest points he loved you. He’s forgiven you yet I saw the way you push him away.

If you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t be here. Why are you still fighting?” 

Crying in front of this woman isn’t an option. It won’t happen. Every ounce of him fights against the growing feeling. He doesn’t deserve any love from Genji, but he craves it so badly it hurts his heart. He’s craved it for so long. His soul is ugly and tainted yet it feels vastly incomplete without Genji’s beside him. Guilt stops him from selfishly taking what he wants now that it’s so close. Genji’s forgiveness is deemed impossible by the hatred he holds for himself.

“I… am not.” Hanzo manages the words through a throat that feels strangled.

“Yes you are. He’s giving you the chance to make it right.” She pushes.

Frustration flares through the oncoming tears. “I will  _ never  _ be able to make it right!”

Angela lowers his hand and let’s it go. Her voice stays even, growing more firm. “Why can’t you forgive yourself?”

“Why? Why!? How can you sit and ask when you yourself have seen!? You saw what I did to him, how I tore him apart! I saw his  _ guts on the floor! _ ” He doesn’t know when he rose to his feet or how he let it get to the point of salty tears sliding down his cheeks. “Just- look at him! I ruined him! That is not my brother! That is metal and wires and a piece of him that should have been buried! I could have done something to stop it. I could have fought, or ran, or anything else, anything  _ but  _ killing him but I did not! I cannot love him! I cannot but I do!”

The yelling that had swallowed the room dies off suddenly with the thick, wet sob that racks through his chest. The feeling of the air pressing on him too tightly comes back and suffocates him as his spirits cry out with his anguish. His grief feels too heavy for his body to handle. Before his knees hit the floor Angela is in front of him and catching his fall with both arms, her slender fingers brushing over the short hair at the back of his neck. Through the chaotic thoughts he wonders how many times she has done the same for Genji. 

Her voice is nothing more than a murmur delivered to the side of his head as his fingers grasp at the fabric of her coat. “I know you do.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What is this about?” 

The look Genji receives from the doctor can only be answered with a sheepish grin. They both already know why he’s there. Angela shakes her head. “I spoke to your brother.”

Genji nods and sits himself down onto the plush couch. The corner of it fits him like a glove from how many times he’s sat there, sometimes for hours on end. Through the window in her office he can see the ghostly white lights of the medbay, and beyond those windows, the sunset is reaching its end in a palette of pinks, purples, and dark blues. It feels like it’s been a longer day than most. 

“Does Winston know? If he is in trouble, I can take the fall for it. I warned Jesse, but you know him - he never listens.” He remembers all the different times that Hanzo had taken the blame for things that he had done as a child, his older brother saving him from punishment. It’s about time he pays him back for it. 

“No, he is not in trouble. However, Winston knows. I had a word with him this afternoon.” Angela speaks from where she’s perched on the edge of her desk. It brings an affectionate warmth to his heart to think how casual she is with him after all these years, even when dealing with important matters. “Your brother… Have you spoken to him?”

Genji turns his mask in his hands, over and over, the movement of his hands soothing. Zenyatta would call his restlessness a side effect of an uneasy mind and soul. He would be right, but old habits die hard. “Nothing more than today at lunch.” He thinks on how Hanzo reacted the night before. “Why?” 

“In my medical opinion…” She pauses when Genji rolls his eyes. “He isn’t doing well, Genji. A little over an hour isn’t enough to gain much information, but it wasn’t hard to tell.”

Her words are chosen too carefully for him to think on asking further about it. Whatever happened earlier on in the day, she won’t tell him. Genji knows it too well. “Since I am here I have to assume you gained enough to tell me something.”

“Correct.” She gently swings her foot where it’s suspended in the air by crossed legs. “He reminds me of you when you first came to me. You never told me you two were so alike.”

That catches Genji off guard more than anything else. He eyes her with a questioning look. No one has ever said that upon meeting both of them. In their youth it was always about how similar they looked, but never about how they acted. Hanzo got the sharp features of their father, while Genji inherited their mother’s softer traits in appearance. But stood beside each other, the relation is uncanny. In behaviour they were polar opposite. Hanzo always seemed to be obedient by nature; all his focus went into studies and their training. When talking to important figures he was seen as the pique of politeness. Genji was the trouble child. Every impatient movement or bratty tendency was frowned upon in comparison to his brother. Only alone, in the darkness of one of their rooms, would Hanzo admit to his adoration of Genji’s awful behaviour. 

“I didn’t tell him everything, as I won’t tell you everything.” Before Genji can even begin to protest she holds a hand up. “What I will say is that he’s hurting. I don’t think it will be an easy task, but I think it has to be worked out between the two of you. He needs to see your side and know how you feel.”

  
The smile that graces Angela’s lips eases some of Genji’s cluttered thoughts. “Talk to him,  _ Süßer.  _ I know you want to.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i have no self control. have another chapter. warnings are:
> 
> \- some slight sexual content  
> \- mentions of genji being trans (updating the tags for this one)  
> \- aruging. angst angst angst  
> \- Tracer and Zenyatta in this chapter. Dae-hyun is mentioned briefly again
> 
> Translations:   
> konbanwa: good evening  
> anija: older brother, big brother  
> kuso: damn
> 
> as always, feel free to let me know if any of the non-english dialogue is incorrect!

Falling into the routine of the headquarters proves more difficult than ever imagined. After the first chaotic day on base, the rest seem almost lackluster in comparison. In the early morning of the day after the fight in the mess hall Hanzo is called to Winston’s office. A PA system that he didn’t know existed within the building had crackled to life and called for his immediate attendance. He expected that it would be the punishment that he was warned about and should rightfully receive. Instead, he is handed a schedule and informed on the inner workings of the base. Since he politely declined the ‘invitation’ to become a full fledged agent, his schedule is filled with chores and maintenance jobs. Complaining about his own choice would be a mute point so he accepts without comment on how much of a waste it would be to have him doing such things. 

Within the next few days he is given a couple duplicates of the outfit given the first day, as well as a standard issue package of personal necessities - soap, toothpaste and toothbrush, and a razor that he has never been so thankful for even if it’s shitty. The small bathroom attached to his room already has towels on the rack when he returns from the doctor’s office feeling like hell after the first day. 

Each morning at the same time there’s an obnoxious ringing outside his room that serves as an alarm clock. Getting up early isn’t strange for Hanzo so it isn’t too bad. What is bad is everything else. Having to go about his day is awkward and unpleasant unless he’s alone. Breakfast is spent sitting alone on most days, as his resting bitch face is so much worse in the morning and deals with most  who come across him. At other meals he tries to sit alone. Sometimes others will sit down with him. It isn’t the worst, but it’s not what he prefers. A few days in, one of Genji’s friends sits with him. Dae-hyun, as he re-introduces himself as. The man is pleasantly surprised at finding another person who speaks Korean. It isn’t entirely awful.

It takes the better half of a week to figure out that Genji never comes to breakfast. Every morning Hanzo’s eyes roam the room to find his brother missing every time. He’s there every other meal, always sitting with a mix of faces Hanzo knows and ones he doesn’t, and always searching Hanzo out to give a little wave. Hanzo can always see the offer in his eyes, but never takes it. At first he thinks that maybe Genji’s absence is like when they were children and the younger sibling would refuse to get out of bed well past morning. When he brings it up to Lena one evening at dinner she makes the idea obsolete. 

“He  _ wishes. _ ” Lena laughs loudly. “He spends them with Zen outside. No idea how either of them can stand it. Bloody freezing!” 

“Zen.” It doesn’t come out as a question, but somehow Lena is getting used to how he speaks.

“Zenyatta. Real sweet. Genji loves him. I’m surprised he didn’t introduce you first thing.” 

_ ‘Genji loves him.’  _ Her comment was offhand and the topic was quickly changed yet it managed to leave a sour taste in the back of his mouth for long, long after. The mystery stranger his brother is so fond of bothers Hanzo more than it should. It’s common knowledge to others. Being told by someone else, after days of being around, stings too much. He forces both himself and his dragons not to jump to conclusions and make a big deal out of it. No one ever said anything about what the relationship between this man and his brother actually is, or what they spend their mornings doing. 

A full week passes by without anymore incidents. Hanzo ends up tipped off about the hours that the training facilities on base are open, and range practise is added into his schedule between jobs. None of the patch work to the building or cleaning and folding of laundry is very fulfilling. Being able to take his bow and feel the tension of drawing it back takes some of the tension from his own body away. The burn of his muscles after a work out at the gym satisfies at least a little bit of his restlessness. It’s a very necessary reprieve as the days pass and the isolation he’s bringing upon himself becomes more and more apparent. The majority of the restless energy comes from under the tattoo where his dragons coil and writhe in discontent. Sometimes in the pitch black darkness of his room, Hanzo will murmur the old, powerful words into the still air and let the two of them into the room. They know to remain quiet on his bed and over his chest, tangled in the blankets with their eyes locked longingly on the door to the room. 

Genji’s absence has never been more cruel as when he’s this close. 

 

It’s ungodly early in the morning the next time Hanzo sees the counterpart to his own spirits. Most of the time Hanzo will come out to the range in the afternoon or evening when the weather is bearable and all his work has been completed. The night before he had seen the time posted as open and decided to wake himself up earlier than normal with an alarm on his phone. The weather outside the base is biting and harsh when he steps out with his bow in a gloved hand. While the gym inside has a few occupants, the range is completely empty. Hanzo’s focus is at it’s best in the quiet morning. The only interruption is the sound of his arrows parting the air and then hitting their mark in the distance. It’s more satisfying than usual. 

Hanzo only allows himself an hour of the exercise before gathering up his arrows from the targets and slotting them back into the quiver secured on his back. If he times it right he’ll have enough time to sneak a quick breakfast at the last minute. He’s on his way back to the building when he looks up and he accidentally notices two figures coming closer, headed for the same door. One of them stands with moving arms, probably talking, and the other floats three feet from the ground. An omnic. 

It doesn’t concern him. Hanzo can easily ignore passer-bys and keep his head down. He would have gladly kept to himself if not for the way the figure who stands raises his arm to point at Hanzo and stops him in his tracks. What the hell? 

The two come closer much quicker than he would have thought. Genji. Of course. Hanzo might still be able to make a dash for the door and get out of it. It would look awful - he would literally be running away from his brother and whoever the omnic is that sits on the air beside him. Rude would be an understatement. The debate in his head goes on too long, and the choice is gone. 

“Hanzo, good morning!” So cheery so early in the morning. Hanzo can’t help but give the smallest of smiles to his brother. 

“And to you, Genji.” The name almost sticks to his tongue, but it’s slowly getting easier. 

“Were you practising?” Genji sounds hopeful. Behind the shining mask and glowing green visor Hanzo can imagine the expression he must be wearing. 

“Yes,” He begins to answer truthfully anyways. Only when he remembers the presence of the other does he stop himself from mentioning his refusal to officially join the organization. The stranger doesn’t deserve to hear an argument, nor does he want them to hear a conversation that should be private.

His brother notices how Hanzo’s eyes veer to the side at the omnic and even without seeing the proof of it Hanzo knows Genji gets excited. He watches his brother place both hands on one of the omnic’s thin arms. “Master! My apologies. This is Hanzo. Hanzo, this is Tekhartha Zenyatta. I met him at the Shambali temples when I spent time in Nepal.” 

Of all the things that he had imagined when he heard of Genji spending time with the one called Zenyatta, Hanzo never could have come up with the reality of it on his own. The omnic who gracefully floats in a perfect lotus pose in front of him is the one who has been flaring jealousy like a monster within Hanzo’s thoughts. Just when Hanzo thought he couldn’t see anything stranger, another person appears in front of him that breaks the normality that is starting to set in. 

The omnic is dressed in loose pants with a colorful array of fabrics draped around his waist. A thick, soft looking rope seems to secure the ensemble above what he would assume to be the robot’s slim hips. Just as the omnic itself levitates, eight spherical orbs levitate in a circle around his neck that create a loose necklace. They appear to be made out of a copper-y looking metal with circles of blue light decorating them. The face is flat and lacking of any human likelihood. Nine points of light above what would be the omnic’s eyes glow in the same blue that colors the orbs. 

When the omnic speaks, the lights on his face brighten in time with the word. “Greetings.”

“...Hello.” Hanzo keeps eye contact with Zenyatta for seconds before looking to Genji. His brother had called the man master. If the omnic truly is part of the Shambali then did that mean Genji is too, even if he isn’t omnic? Would the robotic parts of his body classify him in the same category as omnics? The latter question doesn’t sit well.

Before either of the brothers can say anything there’s a hand reaching out in Hanzo’s direction. The metal glints in the rising sunlight, showing off the scratches and imperfections that adorn it. Hanzo can’t remember a time where he’s ever seen an omnic not perfectly buffed and shined, smooth on every surface. Eyeing up the hand, he reaches out his own to presumably shake hands. What he gets instead creates a mix of emotions. His hand meets Zenyatta’s, and the omnic takes it, adds his other hand to cradle the flesh one between both of his own. The metal is cool. Each finger and each joint are strong and dexterous looking yet they hold his hand in a shockingly gentle manner. There is no way for the omnic to physically hold any expression but somehow the waves of calm energy wash over him with the simple touch give him the idea that the omnic must be smiling. 

“I have heard much about you. I am glad to finally be meeting you.” Zenyatta’s voice holds the same electronic quality that underlies Genji’s. 

Genji, who is looking upon the interaction with such unreserved enthusiasm Hanzo can sense it through the armor that covers him. 

“The pleasure is mine.” He lies and instantly regrets it when he feels as if Zenyatta can see right through the polite response.

“A loved one of Genji’s is sure to become a loved one of my own. We will meet again, Hanzo.” 

When Zenyatta releases his hand the rush of cold that goes through Hanzo is chilling to the bone after the warmth the omnic had spread through him. A shiver runs up Hanzo’s spine and the calm that had surrounded him recedes, forcing him into the realization of his anxiety. Whatever just happened is far out of his realm of understanding - like most things these days. 

The omnic gives a wave and turns to Genji, explaining where he is going and saying good-bye. His brother holds Zenyatta’s hands without any indication of the same experience Hanzo just had. Genji leans forward and his mask bumps the array of lights that glows a little brighter at the sentiment. As if they’re touching foreheads. Hanzo tries his best not to watch. In the next moment Zenyatta is leaving and Genji rushes to his side.

“I have things to-“ Hanzo starts to use his scheduled jobs as an excuse but a finger is pressed to the centre of his lips. The pad of it is surprisingly soft; not human, but smooth and warm.

Genji steps closer in front of him. His breath stops. “Meet me here tonight, after dinner.” 

Excitement and dread dance into knots in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t,  _ they  _ shouldn’t. Genji shouldn’t even be saying it. His brother seems to have no reserves about the situation at hand. He doesn’t even wait for Hanzo to answer before pulling his hand away and making for the door again. Hanzo’s left staring at his back as he goes, the feeling of Genji’s touch still ghosting his lips.

 

All day he fights with himself over Genji’s proposal. The work he does is subpar as he’s lost in his thoughts, but no one seems to notice or care about his state of distraction. His hands move by themselves, automatically, as a deadly cocktail of anxiety swirls inside his head. His options are pretty limited. Going to meet Genji wields entirely uncertain results, seeing as he has no idea what Genji actually wants to meet him  _ for. _ They haven’t spoken about the past or where they should go from here, and Hanzo’s gnawing doubt makes him think it might be better kept that way. If his brother wants him around then he’ll stay, but things aren’t the same as they were before. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Genji is happy with the life he has made for himself. He has friends, and colleagues. He has whatever it is that him and Zenyatta hold between themselves. He has a purpose. Hanzo won’t let himself get in the way of that because of his own selfish desires. 

However, not going is just as risky. If he ignores the request who knows how Genji will take it? He could see it as Hanzo not caring enough to see him, or not wanting to be around him. He could see it as flat out rejection. Hurting Genji further isn’t an option that he wants to even entertain the thought of. There have been too many times already that he’s had to see sadness come over his brother’s features, dimming the rays of sunshine that tend to beam off of him. It can’t keep happening - definitely not with him as the cause. 

 

By dinner Hanzo still hasn’t made up his mind about it. The meal is skipped at the cost of his stomach bugging him with subtle rumbles. He can always make up for it with a big breakfast tomorrow. In the meantime all he can get himself to do is pace the short distance between the walls of his room. Everything that has happened since he’s come to the headquarters runs through his mind in an endless loop. Logically, he can add it up. Genji asked him to come here, has forgiven him, and continues to look thrilled each time they see one another. He would have to be an idiot to think that Genji doesn’t want him there. The issue doesn’t lie in that. Invading Genji’s personal life to become close to him again will only result in pain for him, Genji, or both of them. There’s no way Hanzo can imagine getting closer and still being able to pretend that his heart doesn’t ache when they’re in the same room. There’s only one solution that he can think of that will avoid the consequences of either option. Let Genji down as gentle and as easy as possible. Explain that things cannot go back to the way they were before he put his blade between the two of them. Unfortunately, it doesn’t ease his nerves to make up his mind; they get worse as time passes and it gets closer and closer to the time dinner finishes.

In order to make sure Genji doesn’t arrive at their meeting spot before him, Hanzo leaves early. His coat is grabbed off the hook on the wall and slipped on over his shirt, tactical fingerless gloves following suit. The walk through the building is quiet in it’s relative emptiness and it’s a small kindness from whatever ancient gods watch over him. Without prying eyes he can take the deep breaths he needs while rehearsing in his head the best way to say what he wants to. Outside the door from that morning, the air is crisp. A new layer of snow covers the ground and the soft crunch of it under his boots cuts through the still, silent air. Both of his hands come up to cup around his mouth, breathing out a warm puff of air to make sure his fingers don’t go numb while he waits.

It takes about five minutes, but it feels like the time stretches out to ages before the door creaks open. Hanzo lowers his hands and shoves them into the pockets of his jacket instead. Genji still wears the visor that illuminates the metal and cold fog around it in bright green, only now he has clothes over his armor. A big, pale orange sweater covers up his torso and the circles of light upon it, with a pair of beige pants to match. It’s so much different than his old bright, trendy style. It suits him just as well, if not better. 

_ “Konbanwa.” _ Genji says sweetly while walking up to him.

Hanzo gives a nod and swallows down his nerves, not bothering to speak english when it’s only the two of them.  _ “Good evening.” _

_ “You were not at dinner.”  _ It’s not phrased as a question but Hanzo knows better. Genji’s curiosity never did leave him alone. 

_ “Not hungry.” _ Hanzo gives the sore excuse while looking at the strip of light that crosses his brother’s mask. 

This time Genji nods. He’s close enough that Hanzo could probably reach out and touch him, but not close enough for the urge to be unbearable. Not yet, anyways. Everytime they talk the excitement and the loneliness that his dragons hold grows, heightening his own thoughts that betray him and his resolve. It would be so easy to break the small distance between them and feel his arms around Genji again. It both scares and excites him. It wouldn’t feel the same, that he already knows. The armor wouldn’t feel the same as the soft embraces used to, and the mere idea of it being different makes him keep his place. 

_ “How is work?”  _ Genji asks with both hands held behind his back. Probably fidgeting. It isn’t like him to try and bullshit small talk. 

Hanzo gives him the benefit of the doubt anyways.  _ “Good.”  _ Asking about whatever Genji’s job within the ranks is feels wrong so he leaves it at that.

A few agonizing moments pass without either of them speaking. Hanzo’s gaze lowers to the toes of his boots as one drags through the snow. Without eyes on Genji, he misses whatever movement accompanies the long, dramatic groan he lets out. 

_ “Come  _ on!” He says with exasperation leaking into his words. Hanzo doesn’t look up as he sees him step closer.  _ “Give me something. Anything. Tell me about the weather, the cafeteria food, anything. Talk to me.” _

“ _ What do you want, Genji?” _ It comes out so much more harshly than Hanzo ever meant for it to. Trying to understand his brother’s intentions is too frustrating and always comes up with no answers, so he doesn’t try this time around. Whatever Genji wants to talk to him about, it certainly isn’t the weather. When he looks up, Genji is reaching his hands up to touch the latches that let his mask loose.

_ “I want you to talk to me. Not like this.”  _ His voice is more familiar, more human without the thick metal to distort it. The scars on his face and around the edges of his jaw look a little redder on his skin in the cold air. That explains the clothes. He must still be able to feel cold.  _ “I am sick of this. I cannot read your mind. I need you to tell me.” _

_ “There is nothing to tell.”  _ When Hanzo lies it sours his tongue. Lying to Genji has never felt right. To this day it makes him hate that he lets the lies leave his mouth, just like they used to.

Genji’s expression gets more determined.  _ “There is. You avoid me. If it is because of how I am now, that is fine. I have accepted what I am and it’s cause.” _

The truth in the statement makes Hanzo want to look away again. Or maybe it’s not a statement, but an accusation. He can’t tell. It doesn’t matter either way. If Genji is content with who and what he is then that’s the important part. Anything that he has to say on the matter isn’t worth talking about. Especially not with how things are now.  _ “It is not that.”  _

Genji takes another step forward and there’s no less than half a foot of space between them. Amidst the frigid air Hanzo can start to feel the heat radiating off of his brother’s body.  _ “Then what?” _

There’s too much to even begin to tell. Facing his brother and letting the truth go isn’t something that will ever happen. No matter how much the younger man pushes, or how the spirits cry and beg to be reunited. Genji is no longer his. His right to call him so is gone. Admitting to his unease with the other’s body feels so incredibly wrong. He cannot risk the self esteem that Genji has found. Admitting to any of his feelings that still swallow and cage his heart would be too shameful. 

_ “There is nothing to talk about, Genji. You should go be with your friends.”  _ He dismisses the question with an ease that surprises himself. 

That is, before one of Genji’s hands is on his chest and another few inches of space is taken away from between them. The hand is so perfectly crafted. Each plate on it reflects the light from the bright spotlights that line the walls of the building, the joints between them so carefully crafted. The strength behind the touch is controlled, but Hanzo can feel how it could be so, so much more powerful if Genji chose it to be so. 

The fabric between his chest and Genji’s hand builds up a blind, unforgiving want within the two dragons - both oversized, overdramatic problems that Hanzo tries so hard to ignore. 

_ “I do not want to be with my friends. I asked you here. I want to be with you.”  _ Genji pronounces each word with a clarity that can’t be missed. Genji is spelling it out for him like a child that needs new unfamiliar words spelled out. With him standing so close, Hanzo can see the way a scar on his top lip stretches and moves as he forms the sounds. The place where skin and synthetic meet is much less defined than he had previously thought. The surface looks smooth but the way the line of it zig-zags up and down implies that the injury wasn’t clean cut, but ragged. 

The sound of Genji’s mask meeting the ground accompanies movement. Genji’s other hand comes into view in the corner of his eye and Hanzo grabs it with a hand that curls around the strong, slender wrist. Color and sound burst behind his eyes when his fingers meet the plating on Genji’s arm. The air is knocked out of his lungs as the spirits soar at the simple, uncovered touch. It’s not skin against skin with the armor covering the flesh that he knows is there, but it doesn’t matter as much as the clothes. Hanzo can see, can feel through the spirits that the armor is just as much of Genji as the skin is. It all holds the same essence, the aura that is so distinctly Genji. Shakily, the pad of his thumb moves along the underside of Genji’s wrist as if unable to stop himself. It’s warm, unlike the omnic’s was. 

_ “Anija.”  _ For the first time since Hanzo has arrived, it’s Genji who sounds shaken up. Not quite broken, but in the process of it. Needy. 

The hand on his chest moves deadly quick to rest on his cheek instead. Another rush of satisfaction assaults him. This is torture to them both even if it feels like the most divine gift he could ever receive. This isn’t something that he can have. This feeling isn’t his to feel anymore. What he should be doing is telling Genji that while he’s happy to be around, it has to be nothing more than… than what it should be. Than what is deemed acceptable. He’s supposed to be calmly explaining that he cannot rightly be anywhere near as close as Genji seems to think he still deserves. His lips can’t move to form the right things to say. 

_ “Anija, talk to me. Talk to me like you used to, when it was just you and I in your bed and you would let me in.”  _ The breath that comes rushing out of Genji with the quick, near desperate words is just as warm as the rest of him is.  _ “Let us fix this. I can see how much you want to. We can go to your room, somewhere private. We can talk and make this right.” _

Genji’s fingertips move over his cheek in the most tantalizing way possible. Maybe he’s just touch starved or maybe the dragons have been holding their breath for this moment too long, because it sparks so much through him as he tilts his head into the touch the most miniscule amount. His hand tightens around his brother’s wrist and it does nothing to Genji at all. No give to the armor whatsoever.  _ “Genji…”  _ His voice is gruff with emotion as he gives the warning. Do not take this further, it pleads with unspoken sentiment. 

_ “You do not have to do this. There is no one here to keep us apart. Father, the clan, that place- none of that matters now.”  _ With hardly any space left between them, Genji lowers his voice to nothing more than a whisper.

_ “I-“  _ The dragons choke him as if they have manifested and wrapped around his neck with their muscles constricting his airflow. 

Genji takes it as a chance to keep going.  _ “Please, can’t you see? Do you not feel it? All the times we were told not to battle the spirits within us, every lesson you would listen to so carefully yet now you fight them. I am one with mine. I accept it’s will. It flows through me as we are one.”  _

This is not his brother. These kind of words are not what should be coming from him. This new man is not someone he knows. And yet, the way he so carefully slips his hand from Hanzo’s grasp, and replaces both on either side of Hanzo’s body… The feeling of them making their way up his body is not new. They are Genji’s hands - which always toe the line and take, and take, and take whatever it is he pleases. The dragons don’t argue with any of it. 

_ “I know you never meant to hurt me.”  _ Genji’s lips brush against his own as the syllables are formed into sound. His control is slipping through his fingers.  _ “I forgive you, brother. My heart has never been more at ease than with you here.”  _

_ “Kuso…”  _ The word is hissed through Hanzo’s lips. He can feel the warmth of his own breath against Genji’s own and his resolve snaps easier than a twig. With eyes shut tight he pushes forwards the tiny bit more it takes for their lips to meet. The hands at his torso press firmly and he almost wonders what kind of expression Genji might be making. No way he dares to open his eyes to find out. 

Seconds pass and in the same breath, Genji melts against Hanzo’s lips and his fingers curl tight into the jacket he wears. Finally, after what feels like millenia, both of the blue dragons purr loud enough to deafen him and silence the world around them. Hanzo’s hands that were held tense at his side not too long ago now find their place under the soft orange sweater, holding onto the strong but giving fibre at Genji’s waist that squishes like skin under his fingers. Warm, and slightly textured, and gripped tight as if Hanzo is scared it will all disappear if he doesn’t keep his hands there. 

The noise the simple action pulls from Genji is downright wicked. Skin and synthetic lips part with the sound and Hanzo is far too quick to take advantage of it. The bottom lip under his tongue doesn’t taste exactly how he would have expected, and the tongue that responds in kind to his own is soft, but not quite the same texture or wet enough to compare to the one there before. Both are facts that he thought would have broken him down. Now that it’s happening all he wants is to reclaim them. The need to memorize his brother’s new form and map his body out all over again builds up strong in his mind. He should have taken up the offer to move to his room. Outside the compound there’s no safe place for him to lay Genji down and find every point of weakness, every sensitive spot, every single button that he can push to make his sparrow sing for him all over again. 

When Genji’s feet stumble backwards and the resounding crunch of the snow beneath them reaches Hanzo’s ears, he forces himself to pull back. His brother’s hands don’t leave him, but his eyes bore into him, wide and searching. 

_ “Don’t stop.”  _ The breathlessness and need that fill Genji’s voice are so familiar, he can’t stop himself from smiling - genuine and filled with every ounce of affection driving through his heart. 

No words are needed as Hanzo tightens his grasp on Genji’s waist and guides him backwards. Kiss after kiss is pecked to the lips before him until Genji’s back hits the wall of the building beside the door with a sinful shiver that Hanzo can feel run through his brother’s body. 

_ “Shit. Cold.”  _ Genji whines against Hanzo’s lips as his body arches forwards to save him from the chilled metal. 

Hanzo’s hands find the curve of Genji’s spine and his fingertips feel along the ladder of metal there. Each notch is traced and committed to memory, as is the hitch of his brother’s breath. Hanzo’s own voice is hushed and thick in a way he hasn’t heard in a very long time. Since the last time he had Genji twisting for him.  _ “So pretty, Sparrow.”  _

_ “Hanzo…”  _ The younger dragon seems to not be able to manage more than a whimper. Hanzo wonders what this is doing to him. If it were easier, early in their life before things went wrong, he would already have a hand between his brothers legs to test just how much everything was affecting him. His fingers would always come back wet. Maybe they would now, too. 

_ “Hanzo.”  _ There’s more conviction the second time around. When he pulls back enough to look at Genji he can see the way his neck moves as he swallows in air.  _ “Wait.”  _

Patience has always been one of Hanzo’s strong points. With Genji under his hands, right where he wants him, it is much harder than he remembers.  _ “What? What is it, sweet little dragon?”  _

The sugared words make it so that Hanzo gets to watch more long seconds of Genji composing himself enough to speak.  _ “This isn’t… This isn’t right yet.”  _

Hanzo blinks. Out of everything that has happened in the past week and a half, this is the only part of it all that has felt even close to right. The feeling of contentment that courses through his veins feels more like home than he has felt in over a decade. Nothing could ever hope to calm him in the way that having his skin against Genji’s does - no matter what the skin is made of. The sickening guilt is near nonexistent when Genji is so responsive and so vocal to all of his touches. Like the first time they had ever joined in such a divine way, it eases the thoughts of wrongness and social constructs that cloud his mind. This is right. This is carved into their past by the ancients themselves. It is more than just them; the gods decided this before they had even touched down upon the Earth as mortals.

So why? Why is it not right? 

Something on his face must portray his confusion for Genji to be raising a hand to caress the high of his cheekbone again. This time Hanzo lets himself press into it fully.  _ “Talk to me.”  _ If they weren’t pressed so close together it would have been entirely inaudible.

It is wrong, his mind accepts the truth in a way Hanzo wishes it wouldn’t. His hands fall away from the heat of the body underneath him and it breaks his heart into new pieces. Telling Genji anything would ruin this. His bloodied hands have already no doubt left streaks of invisible red on Genji’s new body, just like the last. The air outside of his brother’s sweater stings at the skin of his hands. Losing his control was idiotic. He’s older, he’s the one who should be able to stand firm and say no in the face of the temptation. Genji’s cheeks are still flushed and his body still leans against the wall for support now that there are no hands there to keep him steady. 

Eyes that are much too dark of a brown look at him in wait. The sound of the wind comes back to him when his breath settles more.  _ “What do you want to hear?”  _

_ “What?”  _ Genji looks just as confused as Hanzo had not half a minute before.  _ “You… you know what I want to talk about. What do you mean?”  _

_ “I mean what. Do you want. To hear?”  _ Hanzo asks again. The question is broken down into fragments where Hanzo’s ears ring in between words. What does he have to say to fix this? How can they get back to where they just were? How can he make it so his actions can make up for every word that remains unsaid? 

_ “Anija…”  _ It’s not right. The name is rich with worry and caution where Hanzo wants it to be light and filled with the need for him that he had gotten a taste of again.  _ “Spend the night with me. I am yours, once we sort all this out.”  _

All of what? Hanzo is so close to asking but he knows how it will come out. Venom will cover up the hurt that’s beginning to settle without the balm of ignorance. It’s taking ahold of him again and climbing up his ribs as if they are a step ladder for the cruel thoughts to take control of his heart again. 

_ “I… Do not want to.”  _ It sounds so fake to his own ears. Genji doesn’t believe it, and neither does he. Spending the night with Genji is more than everything he wants. His arm burns and near sizzles with unbridled fury, directed at himself. He’s ruining this. 

_ “You can.”  _ Genji pushes himself away from the wall and Hanzo steps back once, twice. 

_ “It is late.”  _ A sorry excuse for an even sorrier excuse of a man. The opportunity is right in front of him, a few gut-wrenching words away. And he’s letting it slip through his fingers.  _ “Go to bed.” _

_ “No… No, you cannot do that!”  _

The wounded quality of Genji’s voice makes Hanzo turn on his heel towards the door. Just a few steps and he could leave the heated situation. Too many different kinds of tension are spreading through the air. 

_ “We are not boys, Hanzo! You cannot send me away and avoid me, I will not let you. If you do not let this out it will eat you whole.”  _ A hand at the back of Hanzo’s jacket pulls him. Too strong. 

Frustration rampages through him but of all things, he refuses to ever let any of it show in front of Genji. If he has to protect the dragon from himself, then he will.  _ “I will not talk about this!”  _ With surprise on his side Hanzo is able to rip from Genji’s grip just enough to make a break for the door. The cold steel bites at his fingers as he swings the heavy door open. The halls are completely empty now, and the sound of his boots on the floor is as loud as his heartbeat in his ears. He’s going to regret it. Once he’s alone in his room with only the memory of Genji under his hands and mouth, and the torment and anguish of the twins that reside under his skin. He won’t sleep, but instead will spend the night listening to the wounded, shrill cries of his own soul trying to cope with the loss.

 

* * *

 

The light knock that is placed on Zenyatta’s door and the amount of time it takes for the door to open make it hard for Genji to believe that his master was already powered down for the night. He knows that he looks like a mess without his mask on and a trail of water from melted snow following him. He also knows Zenyatta has seen him at much worse. There are no questions asked or any preamble needed for the omnic to reach a slim hand out and place the tips of his fingers below Genji’s chin. Lifting it up, Zenyatta’s array of lights dims to a soft, gentle teal. 

Inside of the monk’s room is the closest homage to the Shambali temples that they would ever get, so far from their former home. The air is fragrant with cleansing, welcoming incense. Zenyatta cannot smell it, he knows, but it’s a vital part of their practices. It leaves a natural, spiced taste at the back of his throat when he breathes in. Afghan rugs cover the floor with corners layered over one another. The colors blend with the thin, gauzy fabric that hangs over the walls and above the bed to create a private canopy. The bed isn’t used in the conventional way; instead there is a prayer rug placed upon its surface. Again, no verbal cues are necessary for Zenyatta to carefully and respectfully move the precious rug from its place on the bed, and pull back the richly colored blankets. An offer. 

Genji’s clothes and mask are left in a pile on the floor. He climbs into the bed with practiced ease. His master’s chassis fits in his arms as a soft thrum of energy reaches his ears. 

“Lend me your heart, Sparrow.” Zenyatta’s voice matches the softness of the yellow hues that fall upon them. Peace gently reaches into his deepest emotions and troubled thoughts and sinks in, making itself a home within Genji’s reconstructed ribs. Tomorrow promises an early morning and extra hours of meditation spent by the omnics side to right his sorrows. The reassurance of the set practice comforts Genji. No matter the evening’s events, in the morning he will work through it with the vast expanse of the universe, the bond of his spirit, and the goal of enlightenment on his side. 

But for tonight, he lets himself give into the healing hands that stroke his innermost thoughts and lull the ache in his chest. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> today we learn that hanzo CAN make jokes sometimes. warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- medical stuff (blood, needles, hospital descriptions, etc)  
> \- general medical emergency stuff  
> \- new characters are Ana, Reinhardt, and Doomfist  
> \- mention of ana amari/reinhardt (not sure what the ship name is, sorry)  
> \- lots of mercy and tracer. mentions of others but no one else new
> 
> translations:  
> liebling: darling  
> yo: hello (slang-ish)  
> hai: yes  
> Nete kudasai: sleep, go to bed (polite)  
> ototo: little brother, younger brother

The next day is spent pretending. Hanzo pretends that he actually wants to get out of bed in the morning. He pretends that he’s not feeling well so Lena and Hana will let him sit by himself at breakfast, and pretends to not see Genji trying to approach him at lunch. The other doesn’t get a chance before Hanzo is excusing himself from the meal. The rest of the day goes the same. Then the rest of the week.

Work goes agonizingly slow. It isn’t strenuous enough for him to feel satisfied with it, nor does it take enough concentration to keep him out of his own head. All day he finds himself missing the studies he used to be able to bury himself in. It wasn’t fulfilling in any conventional way, seeing as Hanzo didn’t have any personal interest or any input into what he was learning. It was all under the thumb of the clan, but at least it took up his time and kept him busy. Genji used to hate it. Always interrupting and vying for his attention…

Hanzo seeks an audience with Winston after it becomes too much… Not enough? Whatever it is. It’s made abundantly clear that he still in no way wants to be an agent. Instead he phrases it more like asking for a promotion. His business skills are prim and finessed even after all the years. Winston agrees to it after some convincing. Instead of doing grunt work, he’s put to work with paperwork. After the fall, the headquarters was left with hundreds, maybe thousands of files in it’s network. They range from agent information to mission logs to the most mundane of work clocked into the building - and all of them are a mess after the explosion damaged the network and some of the physical paper copies. It sounds boring as hell but in reality it works out perfectly. When he works in the offices on the other side of the building from the living quarters there is hardly any chance of running into anyone. Lunch can be had at the desk he’s been given permission to use, and dinner isn’t too hard to make it through when Lena insists on him sitting with her and whatever company she has on any given day. Even when he can feel his brother’s lingering gazes, or the judging glances from those who must know how he’s ignoring Genji. 

The new routine is good, Hanzo tells himself over and over again. He’s busy and he’s useful, and after another week and a half, Genji stops trying so hard to talk to him and get his attention… and that’s fine. They both have their own lives to live where they just happen to pass each other by sometimes with quick greetings. More often than not the omnic, Zenyatta, is by his brother’s side now. At dinner Jesse hovers around him like a bodyguard, vigilant and never looking pleased to spot Hanzo in the room. 

And it’s all fine. 

November turns to December without any grandiose. Hanzo didn’t think it was possible but somehow, some way, the weather gets colder by the day. The habit of letting his dragons out at night becomes an everyday occurrence for Hanzo for the sake of not waking up chilly. The facility is supposed to keep a consistent temperature. Lena agrees with him wholeheartedly that its utter bullshit and she ‘freezes her tits off’. Whatever damage is still affecting the building is making it far too cold. 

Genji starts showing up at breakfast with Zenyatta in tow on occasion. They always show up later than the rest and are always close: arms linked or hands held. It doesn’t matter. They don’t come around to the table that Hanzo has been assigned a place at with Winston, Lena, and a few others that come and go. Particularly a man named Reinhardt whose laugh shakes the table, and his girlfriend (wife?) Ana, who scolds them for their roughhousing with a smile just barely held from her features. Hanzo decides they are both good company, as Ana never pushes him to speak and Reinhardt jokes with him even if he doesn’t act as excited as the rest of them. 

When Hanzo comes into the room one morning and Lena and Winston are both absent from the table, his dark brows furrow together. Food is gotten and he takes a seat beside Ana. Rein is busy in some sort of lively conversation with a young woman who Hanzo knows to be considered like a daughter to the man. The resemblance in behaviour is not easily missed. 

“... Is Lena ill?” Hanzo looks to Ana with the question.

“Good morning to you, too, dear.” Her hands are clasped around a steaming cup of coffee and the wrinkles around her eyes deepen with a mix of amusement and annoyance. “No, she’s not ill. They left for a mission before dawn. Probably halfway around the globe by now.” 

“Oh. Thank you.” Hanzo answers simply. He knows Ana was hesitant with him at first but now, she always seems pleased by the manners and respect he shows her. It isn’t hard to find information, even more easy now that his job involves it, and he knows who she used to be around here. 

What Hanzo didn’t know is anything about this mission. The documents that he works with are never less than twenty years old. Any new information is protected under different systems, with higher security. Much higher clearance is needed to access them. If he were an agent he probably would have been told. Though, he hadn’t overheard anyone talking about anything of the sort recently. Oh well. He could always get more details from Lena once it’s over and they’re back. 

Nothing else is off in the next few days. Sleep actually comes easier to him than it has since he got there. For a few days he manages to work later into the evening and finish over and beyond what the set expectations are. His dragons sleep deeper with him, and while their energy through the day is still frantic, it’s lesser than it has been since the almost-fight with their other half. 

Everything is good. Too good. Life never goes this well for this long without something fucking up or going off the rails. 

When Zenyatta comes into the cafeteria three days after Ana had told him of the mission, it sets in. Instead of his brother hanging off of Zenyatta’s arm, another omnic is standing beside him as they engage in what looks like a quiet, friendly talk. Zenyatta finds his way to Genji’s friends - Jesse, Angela and Hana. Genji isn’t sitting among them either. Seeing Jesse without the other half of the rowdy duo is strange enough raise Hanzo’s nerves. 

It is not a good idea to stand or to make his way over to the table. Hanzo feels like he didn’t really decide to do it himself. Intuition got the best of him, and made it so he stands at the end of the table with too many sets of eyes on him. 

“...May I speak to you, Dr. Zeigler?” Hanzo’s voice is steady and concise. His gaze doesn’t wander to where he knows the cowboy is looking on with disapproval, or to anyone else at the table. 

“Of course.” The doctor doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest. Her hair is up in a loose ponytail as always, his white coat missing and replaced by a cozy looking oversized sweater and leggings. No heels, just flats. Casual. She stands and offers her seat to Zenyatta, who gives thanks and looks to Hanzo with a wave. 

A nod his given in response. Angela’s hand rests on his bicep and they both move out of the way of the table and the people moving around the loud hall. Near the doorway is where Angela finally stops and lowers her hand. “How are you, Hanzo? Well, I hope. Have you reconsidered my offer?” 

“Ah… No.” Hanzo feels the high of his cheeks flush lightly. After their last disastrous meeting she had offered to speak to him again. Counseling is available to all agents, even mandatory for some, and she had promised he would receive the same right while under the care of the organization. Hanzo didn’t like the thought of reliving that day over at weekly appointments, and had declined the offer. “I actually had a question.” 

“I will answer as best I can.” As always, Angela smiles at him even after the second declination. Her bedside manner is impeccable in how she doesn’t take his unease personally. 

“My brother, do you know where he is?” 

Her expression lights up just enough for it to be noticeable. It makes him wonder what all she knows. Genji might have told her about their… chat. Maybe she thinks he’s asking in order to try and speak with Genji again. “Yes! He is one of the members of Winston’s strike team. He left after the news came in.” 

Hanzo’s eyebrows knit together further and create deeper worry lines. He never asked or got involved with Genji’s roll with Overwatch, but that position sounds important. Being so close under Winston would mean being more than just an average agent. It also means that wherever Winston and Lena have been the past few days, Genji is there with them. “What news? He never told me of any.” 

“I don’t think there would have been much time. The flight was red-eye as far as I know. There was no way to have planned ahead for it.” She loosely crosses her arms in front of her chest as she speaks. 

“What is this ‘it’?” Impatience is kept at bay while talking to the doctor. Prying for information never works through aggression or intimidation in situations like this. 

Her eyes scan the vicinity before landing back on him. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, so keep it between us, hm? A man named Akande Ogundimu broke out of prison and caused some trouble. They were the original team that took him down and so they left. There had been an attempted heist recently where Talon tried to secure the man’s weapon.” 

The man is no stranger. Many, many years ago they had met. The Shimada clan was no place of angels, and neither are most corporations, especially ones that have such influence and demand as the Ogundimu owned company. In the days of his initiative studies he had sat in on many meetings. Akande was hard to miss. His presence in the room demanded full attention. The way he spoke left hardly any room for negotiation or arguments. His past history of martial arts and continued practice had kept him cutting a mean, strong figure even in the suit he had worn. Hearing about his imprisonment years later was no surprise. Someone so power hungry would never have been satisfied as a simple CEO. To think that his brother had been one of the ones to place the tyrant there… 

And now he’s out there again, hundreds of thousands of miles away in Nigeria, fighting a battle against a man that had brought unpleasant shivers to his spine with a mere glance. The spirits that had been so docile in the last few days now writhe uncomfortably. No wonder they have been giving him peace. Genji isn’t there to rile them up. Now the worry that bleeds from them makes him overly nervous. 

“No one told me.” Hanzo says without thinking. The tone of his voice is less stiff and more as if he had meant to only say it to himself. 

“Well…  _ Liebling,  _ you do not have the credentials.” Angela’s tone is in no way demeaning or rude but it still doesn’t make Hanzo feel great. If he had agreed to join them, he would have known exactly where Genji is and not feel so stupid about it. Maybe it could have eased some of the worry that claws at him. 

“Thank you, Doctor.” He reaches out to touch her forearm gently in a further sign of his gratefulness and her eyes widen the tiniest amount. 

“You are very welcome.” Angela’s tone goes from soft to curious. 

Before any questions can be asked Hanzo nods a brisk goodbye, turning to make his way down the hall. He could return to his office and get a headstart on some of the files sitting there in stacks, awaiting his keen eye, but it doesn’t feel right. There’s a feeling in the pit of his stomach to match the needling voices at the back of his head. They insist that something is wrong. The lack of knowing for three whole days messes with his head. Did missions usually take this long? How long are the flights there and back? Does anyone have contact with them at all? How will he know that Genji is alright? 

Once in his room Hanzo pulls his phone out and checks for messages. Nothing. Both Lena and Winston have his number, so rationally, if something were to go wrong he would be contacted. Or… would he? Why would he be listed as Genji’s emergency contact when they haven’t spoken in years? They didn’t tell him where they were going, so not telling him anything else is way more likely. Laying down on the bed on his back, he stares up at the black ceiling. He’s counted the bolts that line the edge of it too many times. The distraction makes it a little easier to not think about worst case scenarios. 

  
  


Another day goes the same way that the last had. Holed up in the offices, breaks for food and for a work out at the gym, then bed. It’s nice to have finally settled into it all. The building no longer feels so grand and daunting as he knows it’s workings better. He doesn’t get lost at all anymore, and even in the evenings when the steel groans from the freezing conditions, it doesn’t frighten him. Having a group of people he knows helps, too. He has yet to decide if they are truly friends or just acquaintances that tolerate his presence, though. 

In the late evening Hanzo showers and pulls on a tshirt and some comfortable sweatpants that he had acquired in the last month. Now that even his room is chilly it’s hard to sleep in anything less. The softly whispered words slip off his tongue and the slight glow of blue that fills the room is comforting. Both the spirits, in their regal, dignified forms, start to nuzzle their heads against his sides where he sits on the bed. Less than dignified, but appreciated. They haven’t been like this since before. Since Genji was still whole and within his grasp. It’s a nice change to their stoic judgement that had been passed for a decade. As he lays down they shift to accommodate the movement, finding their respective places with heads rested on his chest and shoulder. 

Sleep is verging on the edge of his consciousness and growing closer when a sharp buzz interrupts the soft hazy state. Hanzo lets out a long sigh and looks over to where his phone screen is lit and illuminating the space around it. Gently as possible he moves the two dragons, snaps his prosthetics into place, and pads over to the table where the phone rests. A text message notification is on the lockscreen. He picks it up and unlocks it, opening the messages panel and frowning at it. 

 

Unknown number:

Whats your blood type?

 

Hanzo looks at the time. It’s just past eleven o’clock at night. Of all the weird things… What kind of question is that?

 

who is this? 

 

Angela

 

How the hell did Angela get his number? Did Winston put it on a file about him or something? But then again, it wouldn’t make much sense for the doctor to have access to that. The question still doesn’t make sense. 

 

                               O negative. Why? 

 

Come to the medbay

The phone is locked and shoved into the pocket of his sweats. Tiredness still makes his eyes and limbs heavy as he pulls his boots on. The dragons don’t have to be told or encouraged in order to leave their physical forms behind and return to being ethereal beneath his skin. 

Outside his room the halls are silent and peaceful, only disturbed by a howl of wind every once and again. Through the thick glass of the windows on the way to the medical quarter he can see heavy snowflakes twirling in chaotic circles. Blizzard weather. And… Through the thick haze of white is something else. Hanzo stops and stands in front of the window, squinting to try and make out the shape. It takes embarrassingly long for his sluggish mind to connect the dots. A helicopter stands outside in the onslaught of snow. The strike team must be back from the mission. But… Why would…? 

The sound of his boots on the tile floor echoes loudly in the empty halls as he picks up his pace. Once he’s close enough he can see the lights on in the medbay. The double door swings open under his hand when he pushes it, revealing the room to be the busiest he’s ever seen it. The sharp smell of iron and antiseptic permeate the air from an unseen source. He’s used to all of the curtains that surround the hospital beds being open, as the beds have been unoccupied each time he’s been there. Now two of the dull blue curtains closest to the door are drawn closed. Not well, though. They look like they were closed in a haste. A few nurses busy themselves outside; one on a computer, one doing something with some machine he could begin to guess the purpose of. As he takes a step forward his heavy boot hits the ground not in the usual way, but wetly. His eyes glance down and are met with blood on the white tile. 

Before any memories have the chance to flash by his vision, there’s a small hand on his shoulder. “Mr.Shimada?” 

Hanzo nods and is led quickly out of the main room towards the back. The nurse is even shorter than he is. Her dirty blonde hair is done up in a tight bun at the top of her head and a face mask overs the lower half of her face. He’s guided to sit down in a chair in a small cubicle with supplies he can identify as used for blood tests. Angela’s text pops into his head again. 

“When did you last eat?” The nurse asks. It’s not unkind; the shortness of it comes from necessity, not any anger. 

“About four hours. Why?” Hanzo watches as she opens drawers to grab equipment. 

“Good. Doctor Ziegler said you confirmed your blood type is O negative. Is that correct?” 

His question is completely ignored yet he can’t find it in himself to be annoyed at it in the situation. It feels kind of surreal in the way that being in hospitals always does. Especially when he can hear indistinguishable sounds from the other side of the wall. “Yes.” He answers quickly.

“And you give your consent to have your blood taken and used?” She doesn’t look at him as she prepares what looks like the kind of needle used to collect blood, but is attached to something entirely different than the usual vials. A blood bag instead.

“Used?” The shock in his voice must be evident, since the nurse finally looks at him.

“Yes, used. Donated. Whatever you want to call it.” She comes forward and takes his right arm to push his shirt sleeve up and secure a blood pressure cuff around it, then place it back down. 

“For what?” His eyes shoot over to the monitor beside the chair that beeps as the cuff contracts around his arm. Reading the numbers does nothing for him, but the nurse looks over and understands whatever information it’s giving.

She takes time to remove the cuff and grab his arm again, this time wrapping a plastic strap around his upper arm and prodding at the veins on the inside of his arm with gloved hands. Whatever she finds pleases her and she moves on to swipe over the site with an alcohol swab. “For your brother. O negative is rare and Doctor Ziegler would rather use a transfer than anything lab created.” 

Oh. His mouth goes dry and he knows his heart rate picks up. It doesn’t stop the nurse from continuing. Hanzo stops paying attention until the nurse lets go of his arm and stands in front of him. “This will take some time. Can I get you anything?” Her voice softens in the same sympathetic way he’s heard in so many medical professional’s voices. “It can’t be easy to have this sprung on you like this. I won’t ask you to relax, but staying calm will make this much faster.”

Hanzo shakes his head at her at her offer. There’s not much that she could give him that would make this any better. Whatever happened, he can’t know yet. His hands are already shaking. If Genji needs this, and by the rush he’s guessing it’s urgently needed, he can’t and won’t let himself work up to any panic like he knows he’s gotten so good at doing. 

He can’t go without at least knowing something, though. “Will he be okay?” 

“Doctor Ziegler knows him like the back of her hand. She knows what to do.” Her smile is reassuring but the answer wasn’t a definitive yes or no. The way she squeezes his shoulder before she leaves doesn’t help much. 

Hanzo can count on his hand the numbers of times he’s been to a hospital. First when Genji was born, but that’s hardly memorable considering his young age at the time. The rest were throughout his childhood, and only once later in life - when their father had finally fallen ill enough to accept being taken to one. He hadn’t lasted much longer once admitted there. 

The incredibly clean and sterile atmosphere is unnerving. The overhead lights are too bright white and yet looking anywhere else but the ceiling is worse. Seeing his own arm with the needle and contraption taped to it isn’t a sight he wants, just as the bag slowly filling with blood at his side isn’t. So he tips his head back and closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing and the noises that come from the other side of the wall. They aren’t what Hanzo would guess would be normal sounds of a man being treated. Too much mechanical noise. 

At some point in time later a new nurse opens the door to the room and doesn’t have the chance to speak before Lena is rushing past to pull up one of the extra chairs and sit beside Hanzo. Her hair is a mess that’s falling into her face, and she looks silly still wearing her combat boots with a big tshirt and a pair of pajama pants. Her arm is suspended in a sling strapped around her shoulder and a heavy white cast covers it It’s partly covered by the sling, but Hanzo can just barely make out words already written on it in dark marker. When he looks at it she wiggles her fingers. It must hurt yet she doesn’t act like it does. 

“Do not excite him, Tracer.” The nurse says sternly and Lena replies with a big grin. Hanzo can almost imagine the comical halo hovering above her head as the nurse closes the door.

“Tracer?” Hanzo asks her. 

She pouts. “No hello? No ‘Lena I missed you so much! Lena it’s not the same without you!’?”

His eyes roll before settling in looking at her face with an unimpressed expression that makes her giggle even more. He’ll never understand how she isn’t put off by his mannerisms like almost everyone else. 

“Geez, fine. Cranky. Tracer is my code name when we go on missions. Like a nickname but way cooler than that.” She beams with pride at the fact that she has one. Somehow she manages to make it cute instead of cocky.

“Did you look cool when you wiped out and broke that?” Hanzo tilts his chin up in the direction of her arm. He already knows what reaction he’ll get, and is pleasantly satisfied when she huffs out with another pout.

“ _ Yes,  _ I did. You are absolutely no fun, Shimada. My girlfriend thought it was super cool.” Lena says defensively. Hanzo has only met her girlfriend on one occasion, but she was a sweet girl with the same kind of humor but less energy as Lena herself. She isn’t part of the organization so she isn’t on base. She must have called to tell her. Lena interrupts his thoughts with a question. “How are you holding up, love? You’re looking spacey on me.”

His brows lower in a confused look. He doesn’t exactly feel spacey. Tired yes, but spacey wouldn’t be the right word. Not yet. With his free and moveable arm he reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out his phone, swiping the screen to life. Twelve twenty reads across the screen in big white font. Had it really been that long already? Had he really spaced out for that long before Lena came into the room? 

“Hey, it’s fine. I’ll keep you company and make sure you don’t go blacking out on us.” The perky brunette leans into the armrest of his own chair with her uninjured arm as Hanzo puts his phone back. Her eyebrows waggle in a way that makes him think they must have given her some strong pain medication to deal with the broken bone. 

“Oh joy.” The sarcasm in his voice is thick. As always, she ignores it. 

“Anything exciting happen while we were gone?” She rests her chin on her propped up palm.

He sighs as if he’s annoyed when in reality, he might be slightly thankful for the distraction to keep his attention. “Yes. The base got snowed in from the blizzards and we had to resort to cannibalism to stay alive, Lena. All of us died.”

Her giggles fill the room in the musical way they always do. It’s in stark contrast to the strict, clinical whiteness of the room around them. “Come off it, mate. You can say your life is boring. I promise I won’t tell. Maybe I can share some of our wondrous misadventures instead.”

“No,” He groans tiredly. “It can wait.” Hearing about whatever happened to result in the situation now isn’t something he’s interested in. All he wants is for this to be done with so he can go and talk to Angela, make sure everything is okay. The anxiety is being held at bay by the exhaustion setting into his body but it won’t be forever. 

“Oh love, he’ll be fine.” Lena reads his mind like it’s an open book, which it rarely is. He must be more tired than he even thought. Or maybe she knows him better than he thought. “He’s a trooper, for sure! And you’re here to help. He’ll be up and about in no time at all.” 

Her enthusiasm makes it hard to disagree with her. While it’s obviously true that Genji has survived worse, the circumstances are so much different now. Hanzo knew Genji’s old body just as well as he knew his own. Now, he has no idea what to think or expect. He doesn’t know anything about how his brother’s body works or how they are going about healing it. The only real reassurance is that Angela herself created the majority of it. If anyone knows how to deal with it, it will be her. All Hanzo gives in response to Lena’s words is a nod before tipping his head back against the back of his chair again. His eyes close and he can feel the movement beside him, then the feeling of Lena’s hand taking his own free one. It isn’t the best… but it isn’t the worst. The contact soothes the restlessness at his own inability to do more than sit there. His eyes close and her fingers trace and play with his own while they wait.

 

It takes some time for the nurse to come back. Hanzo isn’t sure exactly how long, but long enough that he feels half asleep as she hands the blood bag off to someone else and goes about putting pressure on and bandaging his arm. A bottle of blue liquid, probably some kind of concoction like powerade or gatorade, is given to him to drink as he waits for the go ahead to move. Something about postural hypotension, which flies right over Hanzo’s head. Beside him Lena has gotten her phone out and is looking at the screen. When she notices it, she turns the screen and lets him watch the game she’s playing. It’s not incredibly interesting, but it’s better than anything else. 

The nurse returns fifteen minutes, as Lena tells him, and gives him a quick once over. “Alright, Mr.Shimada, you’re free to go. Try to increase fluid intake over the next day and eat enough to keep up your energy. I don’t know if the doctor would give the okay to take any more blood from you, but just in case.” 

“What?” Hanzo asks, brash in his sleepiness. “What about Genji? Can I see him?”

“I’m afraid not. Not yet, anyways. Once he’s stable you will be able to. You should get some sleep and come back in the morning after some food.” The nurse’s voice is soft but firm in the answer.

“He’s not stable yet?” Hanzo can hear his own distraught in the words. In the hour and some minutes that he’s been there, they haven’t gotten Genji stabilized at all, and that seems incomprehensible. When he stands Lena joins him, an arm wrapped around his own.

“He’s in good hands.” The nurse says even more firmly. It doesn’t help. He knows Angela’s good. She must be, to accomplish saving his brother in the first place, but that doesn’t mean the worry isn’t bubbling up in his gut anyways.

He goes to say more, but is cut off by Lena beside him, gently pulling him towards the door back out into the main room. “Come on, big guy. Let them work.”

He doesn’t argue this time around. As Lena starts to make him walk, the wave of tiredness that washes over him is too much for him to fight against them and the fact that they’re right. There’s no possible way for him to hurry up whatever it is that they’re doing, or to make it so he can see Genji faster. With everything that he doesn’t know at the moment he might not even want to have to see his brother right now. For all he knows, he could look as bad as the first time he saw his brother truly fatally injured. That thought alone makes it easier to walk through the room where he knows Genji is behind the curtains and unattainable to him. When the doors to the medbay close, the noise inside the room dies and him and Lena are left to walk the hall in silence. The walk back feels ten times longer than it was on the way there. That might be attributed to the fact that he just lost the largest amount of blood he’s ever had taken willingly. Still, he walks Lena all the way to her room, wishes her a goodnight and reminds her to not do anything stupid while in the cast. It makes her laugh, and on the way back to his own room he lets himself smile to himself the slightest bit.

 

Two texts await the next morning: a sweet one from Lena with a surplus of emojis, and a formal one from Winston giving him permission to have the day off, on account of family emergency. Hanzo hadn’t even considered how it would affect work. It was the last thing on his mind the night before, and even in the morning it’s not something he’s very worried about. Breakfast is gotten over with as quickly as possible. No one at the table questions him, and he doesn’t bother even glancing at Genji’s usual table. Seeing how early it is, he doesn’t know if Genji’s friends even know about it yet. Neither Winston or Lena are there at breakfast, so it could possibly remain under covers until someone sees either of them. 

It doesn’t matter much to Hanzo. Right after breakfast he’s walking the path to the medical bay again. There hasn’t been any more messages from Angela at all, which he takes as a good sign. She’s either busy, or there’s no news to give him. Either way, it means Genji is still alive. No one said whether it was anything life threatening or not but… someone would have to lose a lot of blood to warrant needing a transfer, and for the nurse to tell him to be ready to give more if needed. But again, he has no clue. 

Upon coming through the double doors again, his eyes sweep the room. It’s almost quiet - almost. There’s a low, electric hum that makes for soft background noise in the large room. Most of the windows have their drapes open so that the soft yellow morning light filters into the room and makes it look much less daunting and sterile than it had the night before. Hanzo’s eyes settle on where one of the privacy curtains is still closed with only a small sliver remaining opening. Not enough to catch anything inside.

“Hanzo.” At his side a few feet away, Doctor Ziegler smiles his way. Everything about her screams overworked. Her hair is frizzy where it’s tied back and while he tries to ignore it, the stains on her coat are more than prominent. As she walks closer he can see the bags under her eyes. She must have worked the entire night. 

“Good morning.” Hanzo offers her a softer demeanor than usual. Maybe he imagines it, but it seems like her smile becomes more relieved than before. 

“I suppose you are here to visit him, hm?” Even as she speaks, she’s starting to guide him towards her office instead of to the curtain that he knows his brother resides behind. His eyes stay on it for as long as possible before they arrive at her office and she closes the door gently, cutting off the soft hum in the background. 

Hanzo takes the initiative to sit down on the same couch as their last talk together while Angela goes towards a coffee machine on a table at the other side of the room. More than a few mugs are already sat beside it, dirtied. “Is he alright?”

“He will be.” Silence follows the statement until the water boils and her new mug is filled. Then Angela moves across the room to lean back against the edge of her desk, both hands wrapped around the mug as she sips at it. Hanzo stays patient. “We were able to get him stable a few hours ago. He hasn’t woken yet, but I wouldn’t expect him to yet. Whenever he has to be manually maintained he is never very responsive, even if conscious.”

The words crawl under his skin. ‘Maintained manually’. That isn’t the kind of vocabulary that would be used for anyone else. It’s easier to keep his cool now that he’s had time to sleep and has the confirmation that Genji is going to be fine, however. Now that he knows, curiosity feels safer. 

“What happened?” He asks simply. 

Angela hums into her coffee mug. “From his injuries, and what I heard from Winston and Lena, he took a bad blow to his side. As I’m sure you know, it’s one of the places on his body without any plating. His anatomy usually makes up for the lack of it. There are no wires or internal workings that would be fatal if damaged. It’s mostly sensory and muscle fibre. The issue was in how he was hit and the size of the injury. The plating on his stomach was on the very edge of the hit, and an unlucky angle made it so the metal was dented and curled inwards towards his torso. Underneath the armor is where many of his remaining organs, and artificial ones are held. I won’t go into detail to save you the headache, but he doesn’t fit the same kind of internal map as we do.”

Hanzo listens to the breakdown with a mostly blank face. None of it is surprising, but it isn’t great to hear. Just as he thought, he really has no idea what is going on under all of his brother’s armor. It sounds like Angela is one of the only ones who really, truly does know it in the same way as one would know common anatomy. 

“The metal has give in order to make movement possible and easy for him, but it’s strong. The edge could, and very easily did cut through the fibres underneath. The puncture wound was deep enough to damage internal processors and collapse some important connections. Even if the hit was unlucky, he was very fortunate for how the intrusion kept him from bleeding out too quickly. If not for how quickly he got here, and with your matching blood types, the outcome could have been much different.” She moves around to sit at the chair behind her desk, her eyes closing for a few moments. “He’s stable for now. I have him connected to a power source as well as connections directly to his heart to keep blood flow monitored and controlled for the time being. Design functions from his first form came in very handy. We will have to wait and see if the new replacements will take.”

So… Genji really was just lucky. His life had been hinged on whether or not a piece of metal would sit correctly within his body to keep his blood where it’s supposed to be. Nausea threatens in an unpleasant heat in his stomach, made worse by the dizzying need from the spirits who had been relatively cooperative thus far. 

“You can go see him.” When he meets Angela’s eyes again she’s looking at him with the somehow ever-knowing look on her face. Her shoulders are slouched back too far in her chair for it to be any kind of formal, and he’s sure she shouldn’t be so lenient with him, considering he isn’t even a colleague, but… how is he to not accept the permissions he’s been given. 

“Thank you.” He gives her a slight bow once he stands, adding after a moment. “Again.”

“Go.” She smiles and ushers him away with a wave of her hand. 

Hanzo feels bad for leaving her alone in such a tired state, yet he knows it’s probably exactly what she wants. He would want some time alone after a night so long, too. Outside the office the sun has rose more and the room is brighter than before. A few people in hospital scrubs still hover around the room doing their respective jobs. Hanzo sheepishly walks through towards the closed off space. The fabric of the curtain is scratchy underneath his hand as he gently pulls it back. Inside isn’t quite as bad as he had been imagining the day before. 

The machinery is slightly overwhelming, but it looks sleek and professional, and most of all it looks like it’s keeping Genji alive - which is the only important part. What he first thinks are wires stretch from the machines to the back of Genji’s neck, but as he steps closer they turn out to not be red wires. They’re clear, thick plastic. Through them he can just barely see how the red plasma of blood flows. All of it looks too inhuman and harsh to be attached to the man sleeping so peacefully. His brother lays on his side with a blanket pulled up to his waist. There are pieces of his armor detached on one of the tables to the side of the bed along with his mask, showing Genji’s face. There are no traces of pain. Merely his lips slightly parted and his cheek squished up against the pillow under his head. His side is partly concealed by his arm, but not enough to hide it completely. The material that had been under his hands not so long ago is now missing, leaving the thick wiring underneath out on display. 

As quietly as possible Hanzo locates one of the chairs backed up against the wall (probably to make room for those who were working on Genji), and pulls it closer to the side of the bed. The sound of Genji’s breathing is overrode by the machines, so for a moment he just watches how his chest rises and falls instead. Then, leaning back in the chair, he pulls his phone out and opens the app store, typing in the name of the silly game Lena had showed him.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a long time since anything bad enough has happened to land him back in a hospital bed, yet Genji knows exactly where he is when he hears the steady buzz of the machine that keeps his heart working when his body can’t or won’t. The feeling that settles over him could be compared to how anesthetic feels when it’s just kicking in. Everything is too heavy to move, as if there’s a huge weight forced upon him keeping him from sitting up, or moving his head, or even opening his eyes. It takes a small while but he manages to peek an eye open enough to take in just a little.

It’s dark around him. The usual glow of his body is gone and instead there’s blue light from a screen to his left and numerous little dots of light behind him. Some red, others white. A long breath exhales from his lungs and while it doesn’t hurt, there’s something off about it. Like something is arranged wrong and causing an uncomfortable pressure. He’s too out of it to find it concerning. His eyes close again. Just like all the times in his life before, he starts with trying to move his fingers first. On one hand he can feel a soft tug and a twitch when he does - something is connected to his arm. Maybe the equivalent of an IV. 

On the other side, there’s something else. It’s not the same sensation. It’s slightly heavy but instead of plastic, or metal, or whatever else kind of contraption Angela might have used to keep him alive, it’s soft. He’s too tired to expression the confusion he feels.

Without opening his eyes Genji pushes his fingers at the soft weight, further confused when it moves away and leaves his hand colder than it was before. His eyelashes flutter when he tries to open his eyes again.

“Hey…  _ Yo.”  _ The Japanese that graces his ears is scratchy and gruff, and within seconds the warmth is back on his hand. Fingers fit between his own limp ones. 

Though it’s too hard to completely open his eyes, he catches sight of the figure slumped into the side of his bed through his dark lashes. In his haze it takes a moment before he can place the voice or the person who he thinks must have been asleep before he started to move.

“Hanzo.” He whispers out in a soft sigh.

  
“ _ Hai.”  _ The answer comes back just as quietly in his older brother’s sleepy voice. He feels the brush of skin against the top of his hand, closing his eyes at the soothing touch.  _ “Nete kudasai, otōto.” _


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so much fluff in this chapter. chapter warnings:
> 
> \- brief emeto. not realistic but still emeto  
> \- more medical stuff  
> \- no new characters but Mercy, Zenyatta and McCree are in it
> 
> no new translations, only ototo which is little brother

 

Over the next day and half, Genji hardly wakes up. When he does, it’s fleetingly. His eyes will open and flutter prettily, but never for more than a minute or two at most. Everytime he seems to be out of it and not entirely aware of what’s going on. When Hanzo asks Angela about it she says it’s normal. His processors aren’t working at full capacity and aren’t sending the usual signals through his body to keep all of his executive functions running properly, she explains while checking output on the monitors. What he understands about it makes sense but it doesn’t stop Hanzo from worrying each time his sparrow awakens only to look at him blearily and ask most of the same questions over again. If this is what Angela considers normal for his brother being there, he hates to think about how often this happens.

Throughout the day there are a few visitors. For the first half of the morning Hanzo can hear staff explain Genji’s condition and then proceed to decline their requests to see him. He’s sure he has Angela to thank for that. It’s nice to have the time to himself to watch over Genji when he looks so small and hurt. He hears Jesse the first time he comes around in the morning. In the late afternoon the man returns and the jingle of his spurs along with the soft sound of the nurse’s flats annoys Hanzo to hell and back. To his surprise, Jesse doesn’t seem to care about his presence in the room, or if he does he doesn’t make it known. Talking wouldn’t be the right word for the exchange that happens between them. More like brief commentary. Jesse asks how Genji has been even though Hanzo knows he has already been told. Hanzo replies politely and doesn’t move to stop him when Jesse brushes a tousle of green hair back behind Genji’s ear. It’s as awkward as it could possibly be after the last time they spoke to each other. He suspects that they both know they’d immediately get kicked out at any sign of aggression towards each other, and neither are willing to take the chance.

When night comes around a nurse with a soft face and noticeably muscular arms tries to get him to leave with gentle, urging attempts. There’s apparently always someone working no matter the time of the day. The schedules are organized so no shifts overlap and hopefully, no one becomes overworked. The sentiment is nice but Hanzo knows better after seeing Angela’s state that morning, he knows it doesn’t always work. As nicely as possible Hanzo refuses. There’s no way he can leave yet, not when Genji hasn’t been able to wake up properly at all yet. What if something happens overnight? The worry would make him sick to his stomach if he was alone in his room. At least here beside Genji, he would know what happened even if he couldn’t do much to help.

 

The next morning Hanzo is awoken by a quiet gentle sweep of sound and a light that should have been partially blocked out by the curtains surrounding the area. Everything is quiet save for the constant white noise around Genji’s bed. Hanzo knows he must have fallen asleep at some point from the way that he’s hunched forwards on the side of the mattress with his cheek laid over crossed arms. Slowly he opens his eyes, groaning when he tries to sit up properly and every muscle in his shoulder and back protests at once. 

“Good morning. Would you like some help?” A voice across the bed speaks up with a polite amusement in it’s infliction. 

On Genji’s other side is Zenyatta. He stands instead of floats and somehow Hanzo hadn’t expected him to be as tall as he actually is. He’s still stick thin and looking light as feather while standing at a good five foot ten or eleven. Is everyone in this damn place taller than him? 

“No… Thank you.” Hanzo’s throat feels dry and he knows it transfers over to his voice, making it scratchy and rough after the night of improper sleep. Blinking back sleep, he sees the omnic in the same outfit as when they first met, only now there isn’t the soft snow white light of early morning. The omnic’s features shine with a pearlescent yellow light that reminds Hanzo of summer and honey and something he can’t quite reach to put his finger on. His gaze slides over the length of Zenyatta’s outstretched arm to where one of the monk’s orbs sits in the air above his upturned palm. The light is emitting from the small sphere in waves, soft like the rhythm of a calm ocean. The stream of light that connects it to Genji glints and wavers in a way that makes Hanzo question if it’s there at all. There are a million questions that make it impossible for the older Shimada to know where to start.

“Doctor Ziegler tells me you have been here since yesterday.” Zenyatta says before he can ask anything. Everything about the omnic holds a serene vibe to it, including the voice in which it speaks. The usual eerie coldness that comes along with omnics, in Hanzo’s experience, is nowhere to be found in Zenyatta’s slow patient reverb. His face turns from the orb to Hanzo. “You should be mindful of your own rest.” 

Hanzo shakes his head. He has no idea what time it is. It feels too early to be awake yet, and his brain doesn’t want to wake up fully. “I want to be here when he wakes up.” 

As a hum leaves Zenyatta he gets the sneaking suspicion that the omnic is smiling again. The fondness harboured in his words makes a bit of guilt creep into Hanzo’s stomach. “He will like that.” 

Curiosity pulls ruthlessly at Hanzo. The atmosphere of the space around them brings back memories of their first encounter when Zenyatta’s hold on his hand brought such clarity and peace to him. Is that what he’s doing to Genji with the ball of… energy? The jealousy he had felt upon hearing about him has melted away to make room for entirely new feelings, the most prominent one being rabid interest in how the two became to be so close and what that closeness could be defined as.

It’s too early to even attempt to articulate any of it. He starts with the easiest question. “What is…?” His hand motions upwards towards where the orb hangs in the air. 

“It is a calling of harmony. It will set the sparrow at ease and help in the healing process.” Zenyatta raises his other hand and sends one of the several spheres floating in Hanzo’s direction. 

Both hands reach out to catch it but it isn’t necessary with how it seems to hover a few centimetres from Hanzo’s hands. Whoever this omnic is, he must be special. Hanzo has never heard anyone but their father or himself use the name sparrow for Genji. Sojiro had given it to Genji when he was just a toddler, and had started to behave in the way that he would for the rest of his life - free-spirited and bold in all of his actions. Yet Hanzo remembers how he would always come running back, teary eyed and scared of whatever he had found, be it a reptile or insect. The nickname holds a deep fondness after all the times Hanzo has whispered it to his brother who lays between them. 

Hanzo must have stared too long or wore an expression he didn’t mean to, as Zenyatta turns to him once more. “Something troubles you.” 

“No.” Hanzo says automatically. Not harsh or impolite, simply unwilling to confess his possessive thoughts over Genji. “I am glad he has friends who care so much.”

It’s an out of character response for him. The feeling of being caught in a white lie overwhelms him as the orb gently returns to its master, finding its place among the ring of them. 

“I am glad he has a brother who cares so much.” Zenyatta replies. Everything about it screams cheeky. Yet the omnic remains calm and non-threatening in every aspect. “It would do you well to take care with him. He has come far to be able to let you in the way he does. Do not take it lightly.” 

The words maintain an air of tranquility yet they are directed at Hanzo in a way that he knows means much more. It feels like a warning but he can’t tell for sure. Knowing that it would be a bad idea to ask for anything further about it, Hanzo nods in understanding. He won’t hurt Genji. He could never let himself do so again. The omnic nods in return and his feet pick up off the floor, legs folding gracefully and hands returning to his lap for his palms to meet. 

“I cannot stay but I will return to check in. If you are here then I hope to see you again, Hanzo. Goodbye for now.” His chin lowers in a respectful bow and without a sound he slips past the curtain into the main room. Zenyatta is so much different from the rest of Genji’s friends; an enigma that Hanzo cannot hope to puzzle out with thoughts alone. Some of the things Genji has said make more sense when thinking about how it’s implied that they’ve known each other for some time. When you look at just the surface Genji still acts the same energetic, endearing boy that he had been. Only when it really comes down to important things does it feel odd to see how much he has grown. The things he says are wiser and more thoughtful, said with intent and purpose. Whatever has happened over the years has obviously shaped him… Maybe Hanzo hasn’t taken it into account enough. They aren’t boys anymore, just as Genji had said. Treating it as such might not be the best approach. 

A weary sigh leaves Hanzo as he takes Genji’s hand once more and idly traces over his palm. A few hours pass before the click of kitten heels on the floor grabs his attention. The curtain is drawn open and Angela steps in, purple latex gloves on her hands and a new, unsoiled coat over her clothes. For the first minute she doesn’t acknowledge Hanzo with anything more than a smile. He watches as she checks over monitors and takes a light out of her pocket to raise Genji’s eyelids and do… whatever it is she’s doing. It’s far out of Hanzo’s league. Her soft German mumbles stop after a pleased hum. 

“Could you help me, darling?” She finally looks to Hanzo and he nods. He’s not entirely sure what he would be capable of helping with, but she seems sure enough of herself. “Perfect. Up here, if you please.” 

Hanzo stands, letting go of Genji’s hand to join Angela at the head of the bed. She’s going through drawers and grabbing an extra blanket and water, and tools that look like they could have come from a torture chamber. “What are we doing?”

“It’s been over twenty-four hours. Most signs of rejection would have been caught by now had there been any. Of course, he’ll be kept for observation to make sure there are no issues with anything while he’s running on his own.” Her explanation is spoken while removing some of the finer cords from his body, and then setting the blanket down over the one already there. “I will be disconnecting him from the power source and regulators. And you have the fabulous job of holding his hair back and lending me your eyes.”

A pair of the same latex gloves and a plastic container is gently shoved his way. “Alright… He hasn’t eaten anything for two days, doctor.” Usually he wouldn’t think of questioning a professional’s judgement, especially when said professional is Angela Ziegler, but it seems… stupid. Nonsensical.

“I would hope so. In fact I would bet it has been far longer. Trust me. How would you feel if your body had to restart after two days?” 

“Not… great.” He replies, still skeptical.

“Exactly. Keep his head steady. He’ll be dizzy and disoriented for a minute.” Angela moves to raise Genji’s upper half, bending him forward as his eyes try to open at the movement. Hanzo is quick to do as told and keep one hand just above his forehead, keeping the mess of green contained and holding the plastic in front of him. Angela works with both hands and for the first time he gets a more in-depth look at Genji’s body. The back of his neck is the equivalent of splayed open, two panels slid to the side to make room for where the thick red tube is attached along with some other hefty cables. The cables come off first and it’s low, but audible as the systems inside Genji start up. The second takes longer; there’s valves and covers and codes entered into the machine it’s from before it disconnects cleanly with a hiss. 

Nothing happens and Hanzo thinks on asking if anything is wrong, until Genji jerks under his hand. Angela’s now free hands come to rest one on his chest and one on his shoulder, keeping him steady. Another few seconds go by and Hanzo thinks he catches Angela counting them on her watch. The soft gag and the slick sound of liquid is no surprise to her - even if it’s fucking blue and thin and that seems entirely wrong. Hanzo’s hold on Genji’s hair softens to hopefully be more comforting while glancing up at Angela quizzically.

“Coolant,” She explains in a quieter voice than before. “and unnecessary excesses from the last two days. His body overcompensates, same as ours do. It isn’t always this bad.” 

Genji makes a high, wet sound from his throat that tears into Hanzo’s heart. His non-metal hand shakes slightly as it reaches up to grab onto the arm held in front of him, fingers tightening. The thought of how coolant must taste on his tongue makes it so, so much worse to watch. How did it even end up in his stomach? Does he have a stomach? All those times that Hanzo has seen him in the cafeteria, he never saw him actually eat anything. And he survived without any food for as long as he’s been admitted to the medbay. The reaction to the revelation is quickly overrode by how Genji weakly jerks forward again and blue drips from his lips.

He can’t find the energy to care that Angela is right there. She already knows, and this is too painful to watch without doing anything. With a hushed volume he brushes his fingers through Genji’s hair, staying close.  _ “Shh, otōto. We…”  _ He pauses.  _ “I have you.”  _

The hand on his arm holds tighter and thankfully, Angela doesn’t even blink at the intimacy. Her focus is on the back of Genji’s neck where the ports are still out in the open. Hanzo assumes she’s checking for anything gone wrong before gently closing the panels there. Within a minute or so she’s completely moved on to quietly cleaning up the cables and wires she pulled before they can tangle. 

Even if it’s been a long time, it isn’t the first time Hanzo’s ever had the job of helping his little brother get through sickness. Back in Hanamura, Genji was no stranger to hangovers and withdrawals. The party boy was known to come home and pass out, then wake in the morning and have to face the consequences. Sojiro and the rest were under the impression that Genji always got what was coming to him, which could be seen as true. But standing by while Genji suffers has never been something Hanzo has been able to do. The only differences are that back then it involved making sure his little brother was alright while also keeping it all a secret from their family, and it didn’t involve anything the color of car windshield washing fluid coming out of his brother’s body. Usually. 

Hanzo is still whispering soft nothings when Angela’s gloved hand comes into view and presses to Genji’s forehead, then his cheek on her side. His brown eyes look up to her and Hanzo can see in them that there’s a huge possibility of him seeing spinning or double. It isn’t the look of someone who has a very firm grasp on the world around them. However, just like everything else, the doctor isn’t disturbed by it. That helps ease the knot of concern in Hanzo’s stomach. 

“He hasn’t overheated, so whatever coolant stayed put has done its job well.” When she pulls her gloves off there’s an unpleasant rubbery sound that Genji cringes at. She murmurs a gentle apology with a soft stroke of her fingers to his cheek, and lowers her voice even more. “He’s fine to drink whenever he’s ready. I’ll check back again soon to see how he is. Call me if anything changes drastically.” 

“Yes. Thank you.” Hanzo’s own voice is barely more than a whisper. His attention is still poured onto Genji where he’s doubled over. Once they’re alone he cautiously moves close enough to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Being so close, he can feel the way Genji’s shoulders slightly tremble. 

“Hanzo…” Genji practically croaks out. Hanzo is sure his body was made capable to handle these kinds of things, yet thinking of the dull blue, toxic looking fluid going through someone’s throat… It can’t be pleasant.  _ “I’m sorry.” _

What in the world could he ever have to be sorry for? None of this warrants any apologies. Hanzo can’t begin to think what kind of thoughts brought him to the conclusion that he needed to. Facing his brother, he moves his hand from the wild hair and reaches to gently hold fingers under his chin. Slowly as he can, he guides him to look up so that they can look at each other while he speaks. Genji’s eyes look slightly less glassy but just as exhausted as one would expect. With a still gloved thumb Hanzo gently swipes across Genji’s lower lip to clean it off.  _ “No. No need, sparrow. As I said, I have you.”  _

The way Genji pulls at his arm to pull him closer is… incredibly cute. To put it lightly. If it were different circumstances he would immediately scoop the younger dragon into his arms and triple check every inch of him to make sure he was okay. But as it is, it has to wait a second. Hanzo leans forward to set a kiss on Genji’s temple just below his hairline. 

_ “Not yet. You are gross, sparrow.” _ It’s said in a tone that feigns seriousness, and it succeeds in making Genji give him the smallest of smiles. He couldn’t ask for much more at the moment. Just in case, he sets the plastic container down within reaching distance and walks around to where Angela had been looking through drawers beforehand. It’s easy to find paper towels stocked in the bottom drawer. They’re handed off to Genji, who carefully cleans off his face. Hanzo pulls off his gloves and throws them into the trash along with the towels, then picks up the paper cup of water left for Genji. 

He hands it over, holding it off for a moment when Genji tries to grab it.  _ “Slowly. Do not make yourself sick again.” _ Brown eyes roll and the cup is handed off to him. Apparently all it takes for Genji to actually listen is a few days in a light coma. Who would have thought. As soon as the water is gone he’s holding the cup out to Hanzo again, then grabbing for him once it’s thrown away. Impatient. Hanzo comes closer and speaks softly.  _ “What do you need?”  _

_ “You.”  _ There’s so much unguarded vulnerability in Genji’s words and his face. How he manages to do it without even a hint of fear or doubt astounds Hanzo. It shouldn’t be this easy. The celestial pull is there between dragons, and even more pressing is the intense need to make this better. Whether or not he could have made things better in the past, he’s being given the chance to be Genji’s comfort again - being outright  _ asked _ to do so. There’s no way to say no. A hand nudges at Genji’s side above where the exposed wires lay. Space on the small bed is made as fast as the tired man can manage, and Hanzo fits into it, just barely. Once Genji moves to lay on his side there’s more room. Even if he’s taller, Genji still looks and feels so small with his head laying on Hanzo’s shoulder and his body pressed to his side. It’s lighter than it ever was before. Based on all the metal Hanzo would have thought it would be heavy, yet it’s light against his side, gently rising and falling in time with Genji’s breath. 

The blankets are pulled up higher to Genji’s shoulders and within minutes the small dragon has his eyes closed and is slightly heavier with sleep. Hanzo’s fingers trace over Genji’s neck where man ends and soft resistant plastic starts, the line he knows is entirely superficial from what lies below. They touch over his jaw that’s more defined than it was when they were young, and pets through his hair, forever fascinated with how the black roots fade into dark jade, forest, and then bright green. Genji’s in pretty bad need of a shower based on how his hair lightly shines, but it doesn’t matter much. Nothing does when Hanzo can feel the warm puffs of his breath against his neck. 

  
  


Angela does end up coming back as promised and the conversation is low and hushed to let Genji keep sleeping. She’s confident that he’ll be able to leave in the next day or so. As long as his body cooperates, everything should go smoothly. Hanzo spends the night in the medbay again with his cheek resting against the top of Genji’s hair. For the first time since they last slept together so many eons ago, Hanzo’s sleep is without any nightmares or restlessness. The spirits let him be at peace now that they have what they want - Genji curled against him, where he’s belonged for so long. If he didn’t know better, he could swear he hears the matching spirit within his brother purr as well. Being in the same bed would have been a nice thing to wake up to if not for how Genji grabs and tugs and messes his shirt up this way and that during the night, the neck of his shirt suffocating where it’s twisted when he wakes. 

With gentle movements Hanzo pries Genji’s fingers from his shirt and is about to make a smooth escape from the bed when arms dart back out to grab around his waist. He doesn’t need to look to know that Genji has a sleepy, needy look on his face. Probably with his eyes not even open yet. A quick look over his shoulder confirms it. Soft clicks of his tongue disturb the morning stillness. Genji doesn’t fight much when Hanzo holds his wrists and fully moves from his grasp. 

It does get him a displeased noise though. “Hush. I will be back. Go back to sleep.” With Genji laid heavy, splayed out on the small mattress, he goes in for a kiss on Genji’s forehead but stops halfway. He could kiss him properly. Only a small adjustment would be the difference. What would it say though? …And does it really matter anymore? Does it matter what the implications or consequences would be? Hanzo already knows the decision he’s made by staying and being here the entire time. To pull away now would be far too cruel. To both of them. So he moves down, angling so his lips press to Genji’s, soft and locking in the promise that he will be back. 

When he makes his way through the facility he notices that it’s early in the morning. Not normal early, but the kind of early where the sky can’t make up its mind between dark blue and pastel purple. Checking his phone, it ends up being before six o’clock in the morning. Hanzo cringes. Oh well. It’s early enough that Genji will be able to sleep for a few more hours without any interruptions, and Hanzo can traverse the building without anyone bothering him either. Which is fantastic with the shape he’s in. His hair isn’t much better than Genji’s in how unkept and unwashed it is, just hidden better by the ponytail it’s been kept in. He’s in major need of a shower and clothes, too. All of that takes about half an hour in his room. 

After his shower, while he’s brushing his teeth, he leaves his phone a top the counter and looks down at the message notifications on his phone’s home screen.

 

Winston:

Hello, I have arranged for someone to cover

your work during your absence. come speak 

with me when you are available. - Well wishes.

 

Lena:

Everyone alive and accounted for? :?

I went to visit Yesterday but got denied at the door. Very exclusive? 

Vip only I guess

Add me on Temple of heros at least :P

I’ll send you my friend code

 

There are at least a few more from Lena from the first day staying with Genji, but he doesn’t bother with them yet. Winston’s message gets a short but affirmative message in return while all Lena gets for the moment is his friend request sent on that game she had showed him. He knows she can wait for something more until they have time to actually talk later. If he answers the texts right now he’ll end up with a bombardment of texts right when she wakes up. 

Logically, Hanzo knows he should talk to Winston as soon as possible if he wants to keep the position he has in the offices. It’s a good gig… in theory. It was good for the time he had it. He didn’t hate the work. What he hates now is that it’s too far. It’s so out of the way of everything else. He’s stuck in piles of paper ages old while everyone… While Genji is out there, out of his reach without his knowledge. His own isolation is part to blame for that, but the job is a symptom of that isolation. Before, there was nothing to lose when it came to finding work or getting by in life. He was foolish to ever think it would continue on that way after finding out Genji is still alive. Seeing the way Genji will put his life on the line for what he does here doesn’t sit well with Hanzo. There is none of the same allegiance towards Overwatch that his brother holds, but instead a loyalty and a responsibility to keep Genji out of harm’s way no matter what the cost. 

On the way back to the medbay he sends Winston another message.

  
  


Winston:

Hello, I have arranged for someone to cover

your work during your absence. come speak 

with me when you are available. - Well wishes

 

                                                                    Thank you. I will.

 

                                                        I want to join overwatch.

 

* * *

 

“No luck. Go fish.”

“God dammit. Go take a hike why don’tcha?” Grumbles of southern nonsense leave the man sitting beside Genji. 

Old school playing cards are laid out in front of them haphazardly on top the blankets. Jesse is sat beside him straddling a backwards chair while Genji’s got his legs crossed where he sits in bed. Still. 

It’s only been a few hours since he woke up but it feels like an eternity. Now that he isn’t hanging in the limbo of unconscious and not, everything is extremely boring. His phone was left on the helicopter and retrieved by Lena sometime after he was admitted, so she’s kept it in her room for safe keeping until he comes and gets it. In the morning Zenyatta comes and speaks to him, asking how he is and gracing him with the soft embrace of the Iris for a moment of time. If he were alone he might have thought about spending the time meditating instead of being antsy. He’s not alone, though.1

Hanzo’s been with him almost the entire time. Genji had woken up first to him sneaking out of the bed, then again later to him holding his hand while speaking quietly with Zenyatta - both of them trying to be quiet in order to not wake him up. Waking up to both of their low, muted tones was strange in its own right. Hanzo’s presence was steady throughout the day, sitting close and letting Genji play with his hand, sometimes his hair, while he played on his phone or talked to him. He’d ask almost too often if he needed anything or if he felt okay, and Genji could practically feel the restless worry in Hanzo when they weren’t touching in some way. 

Now, with Jesse in the room to keep him from going out of his mind bored, Hanzo is on his other side. He’s been sitting quietly since saying hello to Jesse. When he glances over Genji can see his thumbs moving over his phone screen as he texts. He wonders whose the one receiving them. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Your turn.” Jesse’s voice drips like honey and Genji feels the gentle nudge to the side of his thigh. Turning back to look at him, the man waves a couple of fingers in front of his face. “How many fingers I got up?”

A fake sigh leaves Genji, a hand coming up to swat the fingers away from his face. “I don’t know, McCree. You tell me. How many can you even fit up your impatient ass?” 

Jesse’s eyebrows arch up at the same time as his mouth parts in offence. There’s a comeback waiting for him, one that never sees the light of day as a laugh is choked back. Both men turn to look at Hanzo, whose sat with his hand over his mouth, pretending to clear his throat as if that laugh could have been any sort of cough. Genji knows it too well to believe it for a second. A grin spreads across his features while on his other side Jesse mumbles something about it being none of Genji’s business. He turns attention back to Jesse when cards are tossed at him, hitting his chest and fluttering into his lap. 

“Too much for you, partner?” Genji teases as he starts to gather the cards back up.

A scoff is his reward, one metal arm folding over thick muscle on the back of the chair for Jesse to rest his chin on. “Nu uh.” Two fingers point in Hanzo’s direction. “Deal him in this time.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> makeup / reunion sex? hell yeah. chapter warnings:
> 
> \- sex. this chapter is mostly sex  
> \- genji has a dick and a vagina. cunt and pussy are used for his vagina  
> \- there is SOME light angst in way of hanzo hating himself but it's cleared up kind of
> 
> translations:  
> eto: equivalent to 'um'  
> anija: older brother  
> yamete: stop

On the third day Genji is finally discharged. A whole array of tests are done, and Genji looks dead bored as he answers the plethora of questions that are asked of him. (Is he dizzy? No. Lightheaded? No. Does he feel nauseous? No. Is there any pain? No.) Only after every single possible complication is ruled out does Angela re-install the thick, flexible fleshy part of Genji’s side that shields the wires underneath. It’s perfect timing, too. Any longer and Hanzo was sure the hyperactive dragon would have gone mad from being held up there for so long. 

Both of the brothers receive a lengthy list of things to watch out for and in Genji’s case, things he absolutely should not do if he wants to keep everything in one piece for the next few weeks. Hanzo in particular gets a stern warning to watch him and keep him from doing stupid things. Hanzo doubts anyone could stop Genji if he really set his mind to something stupid. Even him.

On the way out Genji is all non-stop talking and movement. For someone who came close to being destroyed, he whizzes through topics faster than even Lena usually does. Outside the facility it’s still a constant sheet of snow that glistens in the bright white lights surrounding the building. It’s hard to tell through the intense flurries but it’s just turning eight in the evening when they reach the centre hub of activity. They both stop in the middle of the wide space that connects the halls and the access to other parts of the building. Genji had put on all his armor again when they left, so his expression is a mystery as Hanzo looks up at him, waiting. 

Everything in the sanctuary of the medbay had been easy as cake. Genji was sick and asking for him. It was clear cut without any doubt. Drowning him in affection and reassurance had been second nature when Genji visibly needed it. Somehow it’s different now that his brother is back on two feet again and standing before him as if waiting for something to be said. There are things to be said… All of which are things that Hanzo would rather not talk about in a place so public. 

“Ah… um…” Genji reaches a hand behind his neck, fingers idly twirling around the length of thin fabric that hangs there. He switches to Japanese as if out of nerves.  _ “Will you walk me to my room?”  _

Hanzo doesn’t in any way want to make assumptions. Jumping to conclusions has gotten him into difficult situations one too many times. Either his mind or his dragons seem to not care much about that though. Something pushes the idea that Genji doesn’t want to leave. He’s a highly trained, ultra enhanced cyborg ninja. He doesn’t need an escort - yet he’s asking for it. After the last few days, Hanzo can’t blame him if that is the case. As much as it had frayed every single one of his nerves to have Genji so badly injured, being so close and so intimate with him had changed so much. Hanzo knows he’s taking too long to answer and leaving his brother hanging in front of him, cutely fidgeting while waiting. 

With a short exhale Hanzo goes for it.  _ “Would you like to stay in my room tonight?”  _

_ “What?”  _ Genji says in surprise. The smooth silver and green cover up his face but Hanzo can guess what it looks like.  _ “Really? You mean it?”  _

_ “I would not have offered if I didn’t mean it.”  _ In a weird way it’s refreshing to know that Genji holds some of the same doubts and possible fear as he does. It makes staying firm with the offer easier. 

There are a few seconds where Genji hesitates. His mask turns towards the direction of his own room. It’s hard not to hear the soft sound of metal against tile as he quickly taps his foot to deal with whatever nerves he has.  _ “Would I be…  _ staying,  _ or could we just… talk?”  _

The emphasis makes it all too clear what those nerves are about. It isn’t the greatest thing to have Genji worried that he only wants to get him into bed like a sleazy lay brought home from a bar. Yet it’s another thing he can’t blame him for. After their last ‘chat’, it wouldn’t be hard to get that idea, even if it is so horrifically wrong. 

_ “I was thinking you shower first, then we talk. Hopefully some sleep as well.”  _ Hanzo explains lightheartedly. This doesn’t have to be complicated. The situation may be complicated with all that’s been left unresolved, but it doesn’t have to be like last time. 

The quality of the air around them changes from anxious and stiff to something calmer when the answer relaxes Genji.  _ “Okay. Your room sounds nice.” _

Seeing Genji shy is new. The loud spirit that commands the room’s attention is now acting seemingly small and skittish. It’s uncharacteristic of the Genji he used to know. It’s a work in progress wrapping his head around the fact that he no longer knows everything about his brother. In a rare turning of tables Hanzo takes the situation into his own hands and offers up a palm to Genji, who takes it far quicker than he expected. 

The chatter from before is nowhere to be found on the way to Hanzo’s room. He knows that in a different corridor the agents have slightly nicer and more spacious rooms. He’s been there a handful of times with Lena, and once with Ana. Without actually going into the rooms he was only able to catch glimpses. In comparison the room assigned to him is crowded. If that’s an issue for Genji, he doesn’t voice it aloud when they door is unlocked and they slip in. Athena automatically turns the light on upon key card entry and the way Genji looks around makes him a smidge self conscious. 

_ “There are fresh towels folded on the counter in the bathroom. Use whatever you’d like.”  _ Hanzo says, thankfully sounding mellow while crossing the room to sit down on the edge of the bed and start to untie his boots.

A muted ‘hai’ comes from Genji. He can see him still looking around where he’s standing near the door. The length of green on his visor finally settles on him. When he disappears into the bathroom, the lights come on in there, too. He doesn’t mean to notice that Genji doesn’t close the door fully. The telltale click never comes and Hanzo looks over to find it open just a sliver. Too much trust… Or maybe not. Hanzo wouldn’t ever think on doing anything. Maybe Genji knew that before Hanzo started to trust himself around the younger man. There hasn’t been a time yet that Genji has shown any fear that he’ll be hurt by staying near him. It’s probably about time Hanzo shuts up the little voice in his head that tells him Genji can’t possibly trust him. 

It’s his own room he’s in, but it feels almost awkward when he tries to find a place to get comfortable. It’s ridiculous. He’s lived in this room for over a month, surely he can get comfortable enough to not look like he’s freaking out. Taking a deep breath, he slides back to rest against the wall at the head of his bed, legs loosely crossed so he can readjust how tightly his prosthetics are secured on. 

About ten minutes later the bathroom door swings open and Genji comes out. His hair is shiny with dampness and still dripping in places, and all of the armor that could be taken off is. More of the white plating can come off than he originally thought. It’s missing from his robotic arm as well as from his outer thighs and shins. Underneath is the same softer material that lines his sides. 

_ “I left them on the counter… I hope that is okay.”  _ Genji explains when he notices Hanzo looking at him.

_ “Fine.”  _ He says lightly with a quick nod. 

Genji comes forward and sits himself on the edge of the bed. His body is mostly dry save for a few droplets here and there falling from his wet hair. Technically, he supposes Genji is naked. He knows it would be useless for him to have walked out in a towel or anything, and seeing how he doesn’t always choose to wear clothes, he isn’t any more indecent than usual. It could just be the extra… skin (?) on display. Genji doesn’t look uncomfortable or displaced with how he sits on the bed, but every inch between them is accounted for when Hanzo looks over to him. He reaches a welcoming hand out to pat space on the bed closer to him. Genji’s eyes drift to it and just like when he had offered his hand outside, the invitation is taken eagerly. 

Hanzo thinks about how their last serious conversation had gone, and where he had gone wrong and said things that weren’t called for. He takes a moment to choose his words more carefully.  _ “Where would you like to start?”  _

_ “Eto…”  _ Genji mumbles as he starts to think as well. He can practically hear the gears turning, can see how he stops himself from fidgeting.  _ “I want to start with what happened after. After… you left the temple.” _

Both of them are stepping on eggshells and they know it. It can be felt in the energy around them just as it always could be. Now that they’ve been closer, the unruly twin dragons have settled from being so quick to react, but they have always been a visceral feeling in the room whenever him and Genji are alone. They roll through his thoughts: beings of mist that calm him as he decides how to go through this the best way for them both.

_ “I had been told… Instructed to lay the sword before the Shimada-kai as proof of success. It was believed that everything had gone as planned, and the new order was to be established. There was talk of strengthening the empire again through new partnerships with companies who would play as fronts for the kakuseizai sales, as well as an entire purge of the empire to rid it of those who would oppose. Whatever they had hoped for did not come to be. After… I fell. No one was happy with my performance; I could not focus, or stay composed enough to make the figurehead they wanted. I couldn’t stay.”  _ Hanzo stops for a few seconds, and Genji fills the gap.

_ “You left.”  _ The affirmation holds no infliction to hint at how Genji feels about the information given so far. 

_ “Yes.”  _ He confirms it even though it’s not necessary to.  _ “I felt there was no other choice. I left Hanamura once I was safely able to. I set about a plan to change my appearance, and become nomadic enough to evade the clan until it came to the time where I was able to leave Japan. The omnic crisis complicated and lengthened the time it took, but I was able to flee to somewhere safe enough.”  _

_ “That explains the piercings.”  _ Genji says with a weak laugh bubbling into it. 

_ “I thought you would have approved of them.”  _ Hanzo smiles at the memory of having each one done months apart. Painful, not always pleasant memories, but each one done with the thought of how Genji would have reacted had he seen them. It was much more Genji’s modern, urban style. It had taken so long to get used to seeing them in the mirror.

A bigger smile pulls at Genji’s lips. One hand comes up, slowly, for the tip of his index finger to clink against the side of the metal bar in his nose. The resulting scrunch of his nose brightens the smile further.  _ “I do. Very punk of you, anija.”  _

Before Genji can pull the hand away Hanzo takes hold of it and strokes his rough fingers over the somehow flexible metal that makes up the shape.  _ “I believe you are the punk, little sparrow.”  _

_ “Hey!”  _ Genji’s laugh is music to his ears - more techno to the melody than before, but music all the same. The sound lulls down into nothing again and the reluctance comes back to Genji’s voice.  _ “You said you left once you were safe. What do you mean?”  _

If he’s honest with himself, Hanzo is glad that the question is about after he left the clan and not the occurrences beforehand. His brother is too perceptive to not notice, yet has been too considerate to ask about the state of his legs thus far.  _ “You and I both know you cannot leave the Shimadas without losing something in return. Freedom always comes with a price.”  _

His hold on Genji’s hand softens and lets go as both hands move to pull the leg of his pants up. The metal and soft plastic is loosened once more until it unfastens an inch below his knee. 

_ “Oh. They…”  _ Whether for Hanzo’s sake or his own, the younger man doesn’t finish the sentence. He watches the expression on his scarred face as he thinks about it. Hanzo thinks he can see the apology forming on his lips but it never comes. He’s more than relieved that it doesn’t.

Instead of taking the time to put the extension of his limb back on, he takes the other off and abandons them both on the floor next to the bed.  _ “A worthy price to match my indiscretion.” _

Genji nods so distractedly that it’s clear it’s no affirmation or agreement with the statement. Once more the gears work in tandem under that beautiful head of outrageous hair. There are more questions, and so much more to talk about. Hanzo can’t imagine how many Genji is trying to choose from. The good news is that they have time to spare. 

_ “When I revealed myself to you, after you had seen my dragon, you stopped fighting. I had my blade against your neck and you accepted in that moment. You would have let me.”  _ The dark, scarred eyebrows above his brown eyes pull together while he seems to figure out what the actual question he’s trying to ask is.  _ “Why? You came back each year to honour me, yet your guilt was loud enough that you would have let me kill me in atonement?” _

_ “Is.”  _ He corrects in a subdued tone.  _ “The guilt is loud enough that I would let you. If you saw it fit, I would never argue with you, Genji.” _

The distaste on Genji’s face mixes with something much more sad. Another time Hanzo might have regretted being so profoundly honest. Now, he won’t dare cover up the truth of anything his brother asks. 

_ “What I did is irredeemable. I could spend the rest of my life in penance for it and it would never be enough. If I had held my own… If I could go back and keep you safe,”  _ Hanzo continues until a firm hand presses just above his knee through his pants. 

_ “Stop.”  _ Genji’s voice is firm; a force to be reckoned with just as the rest of him is.  _ “Stop saying whatever bullshit you are about to say.”  _

Somehow Genji manages to balance peace with force. As well as formal with fowl as he curses, mouth forever filthy it seems. Hanzo would smile at that if not for how Genji is glaring him down so incomprehensibly caring and worried. More backlash at the words is what Hanzo expects, and believes he deserves. What he gets instead is Genji crawling closer, the mattress bending and shifting under the displaced weight. Genji’s form towers over his and blocks the light, both of his strong, unarmored thighs coming to rest on either side of his own. Two hands - one soft and wielding, the other smooth and pressing harder - take hold of his jaw on both sides in a juxtaposition of each other. The light weight of Genji’s body settles on his lap and Hanzo can’t decide where to put his hands. 

_ “Do not say that.” _ He whispers slow and deliberate.  _ “You made mistakes. I have, too. We all do. That doesn’t mean you can keep thinking about yourself like this.”  _

After all of the scolding, the last thing Hanzo thought would come after is a kiss. It’s a light press of Genji’s lips against his own, nothing more than a brush of skin. Fingers trace up into his hair from where they had been on his jaw, and the end of the fabric in his hair is pulled until it falls. His hair falls with it to tickle the back and the side of his neck, and Genji’s fingers run through it. The look on his face is focused but still gentle with adoration. 

_ “I forgive you, but you have to forgive yourself. You can’t go back in time. We only have now.”  _ Mismatched lips move against his own with each whispered word.  _ “I don’t know about you, but right here, right now, I want you.”  _

An unsteady breath leaves through Hanzo’s nose. His hands finally decide to settle on Genji’s hips, thumbs rubbing over the smooth, reddish plane that guards the sensors underneath. The roll of those hips beneath his hands and against his own pelvis draws a surprised gasp from him, and a dirty smirk over Genji’s face. It’s pathetic how that’s all it takes for heat to bloom through his groin. His fingers tighten to feel the strong figure beneath them. Possibly also to stop them. Memories of last time flood back. It’s different because Genji is the one initiating it, yet just an hour or so he was making a point to say that he would rather talk than get physical. On the next roll of his hips Hanzo holds him in place and stops the movement halfway through. 

_ “Wait,”  _ He starts, doing his best to ignore the soft sound from Genji that sounds so much like a whine.  _ “Is this really what you want?”  _

_ “Yes, please. I know exactly what I want, anija.”  _ The answer is dripping heavy in lust as fingers move and tangle into Hanzo’s long hair. Then he stops and just holds him there.  _ “Do you want this?”  _

_ “Yes.”  _ Hanzo almost cuts off his brother by replying too fast. Every inch of him is pulling him towards the deep end of his need, with his spirits encouraging it all the way. Just having Genji moving in that fluid, sensual way against him is enough to ignite interest. The desire is so strong that it feels burning. But…  _ “You should still be recovering, though. No extra exertion or excitement. Doctor’s orders.”  _

_ “Okay. Now give me the real reason.”  _ Genji shakes his head in disbelief and kisses along his neck as if it’s his job to turn his older brother into a hardly composed mess.  _ “You have answered enough questions for now. The beast has been sated.”  _

Genji knows now the extent of his guilt. He fights it so ferociously that Hanzo can hardly bring himself to reveal the underlying reason. _ “I… I know it’s been a very long time but I can’t rush it this time around. My goal is not to take advantage of you. I would rather protect you.”  _

The laugh from Genji is light.  _ “I'm in your arms, in your room within a state of the art military headquarters. How could I possibly be safer?”  _

That’s a hard fact to argue against.  _ “Genji… I want you to be sure. I won’t ask again after this, but I need to know that you aren’t jumping into this without thinking.”  _

_ “I have thought about it for years.”  _ Genji rolls his eyes and slowly he takes hold of one of the hands from his hips, giving Hanzo time to change his mind. He guides it down the smooth surface of his front until Hanzo’s palm rests just above an edge at the end of his armor - just above where the short, groomed black hair used to start. Every move is just as smooth and just as sensual as Genji has always been. It takes him back to when the minx would sneak into his room late at night and make himself comfortable between the sheets. 

When Genji meets no resistance whatsoever, eager lips meld to Hanzo’s again. It’s held back at first at a slow, tantalizing pace until Genji parts his lips and Hanzo deepens the kiss. The taste is near to nothing with his tongue sliding against the velvety surface of the other’s, but the moan caught from his little dragon is sweet. Hanzo’s fingers move down, exploring the area between his brothers legs that is warm but frustratingly flat and empty. His eyes don’t have to be open to know Genji is entertained by it - the curve of Genji’s smirk against his own lips is enough. 

_ “Give me a hint, sparrow.”  _ He urges in a growl, disrupted by how Genji tries to keep his tongue as far in his mouth as possible. 

A hand joins his own and like magic, or more appropriately, like the panel at the back of Genji’s neck, the flat expanse opens up with a soft sound. Without the cover of the panel to keep it back, a familiar feeling falls to rest on Hanzo’s abs. The thin fabric of his tshirt does little to shield the heat of it. His hand hardly has to move far before his fingertips land on soft, heated flesh that covers a hard length. Genji’s breath changes, and as Hanzo curls his fingers around the girth of it, he moans above him. Hanzo’s eyes flicker open and look down between them, widening at the carbon black flesh he holds in his hand. It’s the same color as the lower portion of his face, and very obviously a new addition as well. If he hadn’t of opened his eyes it could have passed as perfectly organic just by feel alone. 

_ “Genji,”  _ He gasps out soft and in awe. His gaze moves back up to watch the barely contained excitement on his brother’s face. His teeth bite into his bottom lip, grinning with his eyes full of the same spark Hanzo has seen so many times before. And yet it all melts away when he strokes his hand up and down the generous inches of his dick. Those pretty lips fall open as color rises to his cheeks. It’s Hanzo’s turn to grin now.  _ “So sensitive…”  _

_ “Anija…”  _ Genji whispers. The hand that had been in his hair falls to rest on his shoulders, half hugging around his neck. The other joins Hanzo’s hand where it moves slowly to keep the friction from getting too painful - an assumption made by thinking it probably works the same as his own. Dry handjobs never end up much fun. 

Apparently, Genji knows that. It’s not surprising since he knows how long Genji has had to get used to the new hardware. What is surprising is how he deals with the issue at hand. Instead of asking for lube, or a blowjob, or even using his own spit, Genji sides his hand down further and returns with wet fingers to accompany Hanzo’s own. That… That Hanzo is familiar with. When he looks up at him with a sly grin Genji’s cheeks flush even further. 

_ “If you say anything about it I’ll kick you to the floor. I swear I will.”  _ Genji threatens in his indignation. 

Hanzo can imagine why, but in his opinion, either is good. Both is a damn pleasure in and of itself.  _ “I would not dream of it. You know I love when you get wet for me, sparrow.”  _

The shiver that travels down Genji’s back at the words is hard to miss. This time when their lips meet it's more of a crash than anything elegant. The hand that had been idle at Genji’s waist joins the first. It’s slightly crowded and hard to navigate, but he manages to find the room to get it underneath Genji’s cock. The space there is lacking balls, instead it’s home to silky, pliant folds that coat his two fingers that slide over them. Above him Genji goes rigid, a fact that might have been worrying if not for the bead of warm, perfectly translucent precum that drools down the underside of his cock to Hanzo’s hand. His thumb slides up on the next pull to rub it over the small, leaking slit. The two fingers that tease at the dripping entrance start to press in and Genji’s hand darts out to grab onto Hanzo’s wrist. 

A sharp hiss fills the room and suddenly there’s heat and drops of hot condensation on Hanzo’s arms.  _ “W… wait.”  _ Genji stops the kiss and pants, so cute and overwhelmed. Upon further investigation of the wet source of heat, he can see where the circles of fluorescent green on Genji’s body have raised from the armor on his shoulders and torso. Steam has mostly evaporated but they still release the last bits of it. He’s overheating. So much so that the coolant running inside him can’t handle it. That should also be worrying yet it’s so damn hot to know he’s the reason for the loss of control. 

_ “Breathe, little brother.” _ Hanzo whispers to him. It’s been far too long for both of them since they’ve been together like this. 

His hand lets go of the throbbing shaft where it had been curled. It finds its way to the small of Genji’s back and he lays his palm flat there. The surge of energy he finds there stops him from moving any further. His own skin tingles from the intense rush that flows through the touch. Since Genji no longer has his left arm, one would conclude that he also no longer has the green ink that once sprawled down it. Yet both him, and his dragons, know the feeling as if it’s a home they have returned to. Genji’s spirit is reacting to the touches just as it’s vessel is, with the same intensity and earnest. 

_ “Take what you’d like, Genji.”  _ He encourages in an attempt to help. His fingertips still rub along the slick hole that trembles along with Genji’s thighs. They don’t push or pull away. They merely touch, only delving into the malleable space when Genji himself pushes his hips down and forward. He impales himself on Hanzo’s fingers, his cock rutting up where it rests on his shirt. 

Fingernails dig into the skin and short shaved hair at the back of his neck while Genji cries out at being penetrated. It takes half a second for him to start fucking down onto the fingers. It’s a harsh grind that slicks Hanzo’s palm and a ways up his wrist with Genji’s arousal. It’s the embodiment of how desperate Hanzo himself has felt ever since the reveal in Hanamura. Only for Genji, it must have been like that for so much longer. It makes sense; his brother who once thrived on physical pleasure and attention, now commanding his pleasure in the least patient way on his lap. The begging starts up sooner than he anticipated. 

_ “More, I need more! Touch me more, now, please.”  _ Genji’s voice reverberates in more than just the robotic sense. It’s no time to be thinking about it but Hanzo still wonders how hard of a time Genji is having holding his dragon at bay. 

Of course, Hanzo makes no move to help him with it. It would help them both if he did, since he’s had an erection from the very start. It’s pressing against his pants, trapped under the mess of his hand and Genji’s dripping cunt.  _ “Touch you where? How am I to know if you aren’t specific for me?”  _

As he thought he would, Genji groans in frustration and tries to ride the two fingers better. Even if he wanted to add another it might not be possible with how numb and uncomfortable his hand has become. The noise Genji makes at the loss when he pulls them out completely is loud enough that Hanzo starts to really hope the walls are thick. The way his body tries to clench down last minute is cute, but could be much more appreciated if were around his arousal that throbs from lack of attention. 

There’s an issue with that though.  _ “How do you want to go about this? I don’t have any condoms.”  _ Hanzo breathes out even as he pushes on Genji’s thighs to make enough room to get his fly undone. 

Genji makes a sound that’s a cross between a snort and a scoff.  _ “Hanzo. The entire lower half of my body is made of plastic and metal and gross fake gushy stuff. I promise you, there is no longer any way you could possibly get me pregnant.” _

_ “...Right. Okay.”  _ Hanzo nods, suddenly flustered that he hadn’t realized that himself. It only lasts a few seconds until his pants and boxers are shoved down enough to pull his cock out, and Genji licks his lips as if it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever seen. The still wet, warm metal of Genji’s hand moves in to touch fingertips along the underside and Hanzo can’t stop the moan from leaving him. It’s so close to human but also completely different. 

It’s short lived, though. Impatience runs rampant in his brother’s blood, as if put there genetically at birth. His own hand is grabbed and pulled away so he can move closer again. The slow glide of Genji’s sex along his shaft is nearly too much to handle. It’s a weird experience to look down and have the perfectly designed dick block the view, but who the hell is he to complain in the situation he’s in? None of this is as he ever imagined or how he thought it would ever play out. It’s kind of better. Genji had always been more than okay with flaunting his body before, but now… Now he’s gorgeous in how he fits this new body. How could he have ever looked upon it in disgust? 

Gentle fingers take hold of his cock at the hilt, and the next moment all of Hanzo’s thoughts are decimated. Fire spreads through his veins. The pleasure of sinking into his brother’s tight heat is heightened by the pure bliss the connection elicits in the dragons. The long revered, ancient spirits that are supposed to be so proud and noble are squirming at the euphoria. Not only his own. Genji’s, too. It feels like ages since he’s felt the tender, ecstatic companion spirit at the very edges of his reach. Above him Genji takes in a sharp inhale, thighs going rigid and hands grasping onto Hanzo’s shoulders. He should have taken it slower, and the consequences of the enthusiasm are laid out in front of Hanzo so beautifully. 

A light raise of Hanzo’s hips is all it takes for the young dragon to lose his composure. Dark eyelashes flutter in an attempt to keep his eyes open as he cries out. The hold on his shirt is strong enough for the seams to stress and threaten to break. His own gratification pales in comparison to how Genji is losing it on top of him. 

_ “Sparrow,”  _ He huffs out on deep breaths.  _ “Slowly.”  _

Genji nods, but as soon as he tries to slowly raise and slide up along the length inside of him his control falters again. The way he moves his hips is frantic and desperate, pushing back down to keep the firm head of Hanzo’s dick pressed deep inside of him. His head tips back to give Hanzo an eyeful of the column of his neck, long and home to Genji’s jumping pulse. 

Hanzo’s moan mixes with his brothers, followed by a low grunt. Even a decade later, as fully grown men, the little dragon can’t take heed of direction in the overwhelming haze of pleasure. In a way, he’s glad. It feels like home when Genji grinds down with so much need. It also feels like his nervous system is going to short circuit if he keeps it up. 

It’s never been so easy to wrap his arms around Genji’s waist and hoist him up, pushing him backwards until his back hits the sheets and he’s left looking up at Hanzo with the most debauched expression. With the time he bought himself he tugs his shirt off over his head and gets his pants off the rest of the way. Then Genji is grabbing at his waist with legs spread wide and inviting. One day soon he’ll have to get between them and find out what the dripping cum tastes like. For now he doesn’t dare to keep Genji from what he wants. He grabs Genji’s legs and pulls them up to rest on his own, the tip of his erection prodding at him when Hanzo leans forward to mouth at the unmarked skin on his neck. Unsteady hips try to buck up to take the pleasure, but a strong hand denies it, pinning Genji down. 

_ “Anija! Hanzo… Come on!”  _ Genji doesn’t whine. No, he full out  _ complains. _ The urgency drips from his voice. 

Hanzo clicks his tongue in an age old reprimand, but he gives into it. He thrusts into the snug cunt slow and feels how Genji tightens and gushes in need. Overcompensating, and soaking into the sheets under them as Hanzo picks up a pace. It isn’t nearly as fast as Genji had been trying to achieve, but each time he hits deep enough that there’s no chance for the man to complain. The steady excess of heat from Genji goes from bearable to burning at Hanzo’s torso hovering above. Everything is different and new, including the signs of his brothers nearing climax. The way his hands grab and tug his hair is the same, and the pulsing tightness around his cock is comparable. The growing sounds of his body trying to handle it is new. The brush of Genji’s twitching cock against his groin on each thrust is new and incredibly welcome. 

_ “Han- Hanzo, I’m… I can’t…”  _ Genji says through breaths that won’t come fast enough. 

_ “Little sparrow… My perfect, beautiful…”  _ Hanzo struggles to speak and get enough oxygen at the same time but pushes through it.  _ “You need me to touch you? Do you want to cum?”  _

Genji nods pathetically where he’s arched and writhing. He’s trying to get friction against his leaking dick but Hanzo’s hand still keeps him in place. All it would take for him to cum is a short touch there, Hanzo’s sure of it. The last of his self control is used to make him wait for it so he can drink in the desperate cries that escalate until there’s pops of static distorting the sound. Only then does he reach his hand to wrap around Genji’s cock and jerk it firmly. He only gets in a few before Genji moans so loud it’s closer to a scream. 

The same translucent cum that had been dripping from the wet tip of his cock now falls onto Genji’s stomach in ropes, a hefty throb of the length in Hanzo’s hand following each. He watches as Genji’s eyes roll back and tries not to do the same as warm, wet walls spasm around his cock. He wants to take it all in, see how he can take apart Genji then put him back together with touch alone. It’s an incredibly difficult desire when Genji’s body is so insistent on trying to milk him for all he’s worth. Genji’s orgasm comes to a crescendo then tapers off in the midst of heavy panting and movement held back so he can recover from it. His back finally flattens to the mattress and his thighs shake around Hanzo’s hips. His hair is a complete mop of green in it’s mess, but the look on his face makes up for it - fucked out of his wits, pupils blown wide from the release of chemicals, and lips parted just enough to finish the look. 

“ _ Fuck…”  _ Hanzo hisses through his teeth and tries his best to not jostle or put Genji through anything uncomfortable. Arms come to lazily wrap around his neck for fingers to trace over the skin on his back. He’s pulled down slowly and kissed even more leisurely. Genji may have been desperate but now that he’s been satisfied he’s blissed out and patient. He must still remember… So many times before where Hanzo would wear him out then make gentler love to him. 

_ “Don’t stop. I’m okay.”  _ The begging is gone and replaced with passionate whispers spoken between their still partially joined lips.  _ “You feel so… so good, Hanzo. Keep going, I want you to.”  _

He can’t ask for better permission to be given. The pull out is almost embarrassing, Hanzo feeling the cum gush around his cock as soon as he starts to push in again. The bedding won’t be useable in the slightest. Below Genji blushes but he knows better than to think it’s from the same embarrassment. Genji had lived for the feeling of being fucked slow after already having his fill. 

Their chests press together in a messy fashion as Genji pulls him down even further so he can get his fingers where he wants them: petting through the long strands of ebony hair.  _ “I missed you, anija. It doesn’t feel like this with anyone but you.” _

Hanzo’s core turns molten at the sweetly whispered words. His brother’s breath is still short and every movement is less than refined on his own part, but it’s too good try and coordinate his actions better. His thrusts are unsteady, drowning in the feeling of the slick, slow glide each time he sinks back into Genji’s messy sex. Genji’s lips moving to his ear to continue the sugary compliments does nothing to help how quickly Hanzo starts to come undone. It builds with each push of his hips until he picks up pace, ending up pounding into him a few times before he finishes. The hand in his hair tightens, and through his own grunt and loud breathing Hanzo hears the cute little moan Genji lets out as he’s filled. His spend creates new warmth inside of him that he’s obviously enjoying. Hanzo isn’t faring any better. It’s as if years of tension dissolve in the thick afterglow that settles in his mind and bones. His heart still pounds in his ears as his forehead lowers to rest against the crook of Genji’s neck. Both skin and machine warm and bringing waves of comforting from below. 

The look on Genji’s face when Hanzo finally pulls back a few inches is enough to have him laughing breathlessly.

_ “That good?”  _ He asks and roams a hand up along Genji’s side. He’s boneless and relaxed beneath him, and incredibly warm to the touch. No doubt feeling the same intense contentment. 

_ “Finally getting to feel you fill me properly… Fucking fantastic. The best.”  _ Genji mumbles in his pretty sounding, fucked out tone. It’s followed by another gorgeous moan as Hanzo sits back and pulls out. Pearly white mixes with the thin synthetic fluid and spills out of the dark folds in stark contrast, and Hanzo’s softening dick gives a valiant attempt at twitching in interest. 

There’s no way he can stop himself from sliding his fingers through the mess to bring them to his lips. It’s definitely not flavourless, but it’s not like what his lover used to taste like. All that he can really taste in it is his own. The rest must be like how Genji’s mouth is. Even so, the act itself has Genji staring up at him in exhausted awe. 

_ “If you keep that up I’ll want more.”  _ The man warns, as if a second round would have any kind of negative connotations. 

Hanzo gently pats one of Genji’s still shaking thighs.  _ “I would love to give it to you, but you already looked like you were going to break. Or overheat? Something. Stay here.”  _

_ “Not like I’m going anywhere.”  _ He replies airily. 

After reaching for his legs and securing them into place, Hanzo stood with a stretch to both his shoulders and back. In the bathroom he cleaned himself up, brushed through his hair, and wet a face cloth with warm water.Upon returning he can still hear the light sound of Genji’s fans working overtime where he lays sprawled out on the bed. His legs are still spread wide with the results of their lovemaking on display. Every piece of art, intricate tapestry, or revered work of literature Hanzo had ever seen - all of them pale in the light of the beautiful sight that is Genji Shimada on his bed. Flaccid length resting on his stomach, cum still trailing down from his stretched entrance, and eyes half lidded in the single most tranquil way he has ever seen. Most importantly, happy. He looks happy.

Hanzo stays quiet as he crawls back onto the bed, as to not wake Genji from the doze he’s on his way to. He’s gentle and thorough as possible while using the face cloth to clean up every hint of the sticky mess. Sometimes the little dragon will wince at overstimulation or a sensitive spot touched with the towel, but soon enough Hanzo is pretty sure he’s gotten everything sparkling again. The towel is thrown to the side to join the pile of his clothes. It’s a bit of a hassle to get the soiled sheets out from under a whiny, sleep heavy Genji but in no way is it impossible. Everything would have to be dealt with tomorrow. There’s no way he’s giving up the call of Genji reaching for him from his bed.

He falls into place with him on the mattress, and Genji wastes no time pressing to him entirely. Their legs get tangled together next. To his surprise he feels the cool metal and warm skin of Genji’s hands dislocating the metal portions of his legs for him, then feels them hug around his chest so tightly it steals his breath. One of Hanzo’s hands threads fingers into Genji’s hair, while the other wraps around his waist with his arm. Everything is finally, truly quiet. The cry of his dragons that has lasted so long is soothed, and his own aches are nowhere to be found. Genji’s body has finally gone quiet save for the steady, slow sounds of his breathing. 

_ “...Goodnight, sparrow.”  _ He whispers against where Genji’s forehead brushes his lips and jaw. There’s no reply or response, but a smile settles over Hanzo’s lips at the fact that he’s able to say it to the man again.

 

* * *

 

“Hey… nh.  _ Yamete.”  _ A gruff voice accompanies the nudge at his back that rouses Genji from his deep sleep. It’s rude but light, and so obviously his brother that he doesn’t even have to take a moment to take in his surroundings. Even if he wanted to, it’s too dark when he actually opens his eyes.

“Stop what?” He croaks out in English, used to waking up and speaking either English or Nepali to the only other person he is in a habit of sleeping with - Zenyatta. 

The noise from behind him could hardly be called a scoff with how muffled it is. “Moving.” Hanzo is either too tired to formulate a full sentence in English, or too tired to say anything too long in general. 

“Shut up.” Genji whispers and sinks into the pillow under his cheek further. The fabric is soft and warm, and smells so strongly of Hanzo it makes him want to bury his face into it further. His flippant remark gains him a much tighter hold around his waist and a breath against the shell of his ear that makes him smile.

“Watch it.” The warning is all he gets before he feels the kiss behind his ear and the strong arm around him moves up to clutch him by his chest. He’s pulled backwards until Hanzo’s chest is up against his back. Genji can’t remember falling asleep, but sometime while he was out a blanket had been brought over top of them both. It must be one of the gross old ones that were given to low rank soldiers. It’s too scratchy to not be. 

His own blanket in his room is so much better. It’s the same one he had used at the Monastery, with it’s fraying edges and deep reds and purples that are wearing out and becoming faded with age. So fucking soft… They should have gone to his room instead. It would have been weird to suggest it after Hanzo had specifically asked him to stay in his room, though. Plus, if they had been in his room, he wouldn’t be getting the pleasure of being totally surrounded in the smell of his lover. It’s embarrassing how even thinking of using the label for Hanzo once more makes him smile. It’s too good to be true. Yet here they are, and here he is held in the older man’s arms so close he can feel his morning wood pressing lightly against his back. Or maybe it’s not morning wood and he just has that effect on Hanzo. Either way, everything feels so right. 

_ “Hanzo,”  _ Genji murmurs sleepily, continuing after a grunt of acknowledgement against the back of his neck.  _ “You should move into my room.” _

An incoherent grumble is all that meets his ear for a good few seconds.  _ “Is that allowed…? I will be there soon anyways.”  _

_ “In my room?”  _ He asks, confused. Hanzo may be tired and wanting to go back to sleep, but he’s not making enough sense for Genji to keep his curiosity in check.

_ “No.”  _ Hanzo says with a slightly annoyed sigh. Never completely annoyed. He always leaves affection in his tone.  _ “I will be in the same hall as you.”  _

Maybe asking now wasn’t the best idea. It’s who knows what time in the morning, they’re both half asleep and Hanzo seems to be still in some kind of dream or something. None of his answers add up. “ _ The rooms in my hall are for Overwatch operatives.”  _

_ “Exactly.”  _ The one word is said with an air of finality. Hanzo wants it to be the end of the conversation, and when Genji squirms to turn around and face him, his eyes are closed. Hanzo’s smart man. It’s no secret that after the training and education he received he could probably have the corporate world at his feet.  But t he’s also so stupid to ever think that he could end the conversation with that.

_ “What? What do you mean? I thought you had a job in file recovery. Are you… You are joking with me. That isn’t nice, anija.”  _ He keeps talking while moving a hand up to stroke his thumbs over his brother’s sharp cheekbones. In the early morning his face is so relaxed. The space between his eyebrows isn’t disturbed by stress lines and his lips are relaxed and just barely parted. Only when Genji continues to speak do his onyx eyes open with heavy eyelids. 

_ “I am joining Overwatch. Now go back to sleep.”  _ Hanzo declares as if it’s the same as saying he’s going to get coffee in the morning. 

Genji, on the other hand, wastes no time in grinning and pulling Hanzo into a much too tight hug. The man complains with a grunt, but Genji feels how the hand at his back presses flat and the way Hanzo hugs him back. He can never hide anything. The stoic exterior he’s made for himself melts away around Genji just enough for him to see the soft, mushy sweet inside. That’s where decisions like this come from. Being around the base and seeing how things truly are behind the scenes might have changed his mind, even if Genji knows that wasn’t the reason he came. Whatever the motive for the change of heart, he couldn’t be happier about it.

_ “You are thinking too much.”  _ Hanzo says close to his ear and Genji loosens his hold.  _ “Sleep while there is time.”  _

There’s no way he’ll be able to fall back asleep now. The excitement that runs through him has been months in the making. The least he can do is close his eyes and attempt to relax his thoughts, for Hanzo’s sake. He spent years mastering the art of calming his mind into a meditative state. He’s overcome crippling self-consciousness and anxieties. He should be good at clearing his mind by now, but with Hanzo beside him that all goes out the window and he goes right back to the uncontrollable ball of energy he was then they were children. It doesn’t seem to matter though; since as soon as it’s quiet again Hanzo’s breath evens out as he falls back to sleep. The twin dragons that stay so close to his own spirit are calm and at peace, in turn bringing a wave of tranquility over Genji and his own dragon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a nice, slow chapter before shit hits the fan. warnings:
> 
> (all of these are in genji's part so you can totally skip his POV to skip these)  
> \- general christmas-y stuff  
> \- christmas sex: genji wears lingerie, light dom/sub undertones  
> \- (almost) panic attacks during sex  
> \- crying during sex  
> \- safeword is mentioned but not used, but it should be used. it isn't used.
> 
> translations:  
> anija: older brother

Joining Overwatch isn’t nearly as easy as advertised. The whole speech upon arrival had made it seem like they just needed a ‘yes’ and it would be done. So, so very wrong for Hanzo to assume. The morning after their night together, both Hanzo and Genji had made their way to talk to Winston about it. Breakfast was a loud affair with Genji’s friends swarmed around Hanzo’s usual table. After his days out of commission everyone was eager and loud, but for some reason Genji didn’t join in on most of it. He stayed beside Hanzo, and even as he joked around and chattered, one of his hands stayed tucked away secretly on Hanzo’s thigh underneath the table. Almost as if Genji couldn’t bare to not be touching him somehow. The thought had made Hanzo more smiley than ever before at the meal.

The rest of the day had been spent with paperwork - boring, lengthy, agonizing paperwork that was far too extensive. Winston already had a lot of his history on record, of course. It was never any secret that Overwatch had pins on the Shimada-gumi since the very beginning. Only the last decade was missing from their files, and that hardly mattered with how Hanzo had left during that lapse of time. Yet Winston still insisted on doing things properly. Genji stayed with him for it but wasn’t exactly the most helpful. According to him, he had never had to do any of this. When Hanzo asked for further explanation on that he was given an easy shrug and was left without answer. They mystery of Genji’s permanent indoctrination into Overwatch would remain a secret for the time being. Meanwhile all of Hanzo’s secrets were spilled out onto the forms scattered around the table. From his youth to the second he walked through the headquarter doors - every relation, every job, every _crime._ All were written out in a long list, and while it looked so much more damning in an actual list, Hanzo was assured that if he was accepted his name would be entirely cleared as Genji’s was, and if not, things would remain the same. He wouldn’t be thrown to the authorities. He guessed that little fact probably took a lot of work on his brother’s end.

Really though, Hanzo knows no matter what he does his name will never truly be cleared. The records can be wiped, or it can all be suspended or reversed, but the acts cannot be. The Shimada clan is weak and lacking both of the dragons of legend that were supposedly destined to rule over the lineage and keep it strong. But weak does not mean gone. They are still out there in Hanamura, hiding behind castle walls, making the same seedy deals that Hanzo himself had orchestrated for a short time. Not that it made a difference; even if the empire falls (and Gods he hopes it does), he will always bare the name, marks and reputation of a Shimada. He can’t imagine being as lucky as Genji - who has so eloquently shrugged the life that they used to live off his shoulders. People here don’t look at his brother like a criminal. Why would they? He has redeemed himself so beautifully. He never wanted to have any part in their old life and now all these years later he’s made one for himself that fits him perfectly. A life as a hero.

The irony of the thought lingered well after the formalities were finished and Hanzo was free to leave. The rest of the day was spent loitering, trying desperately to find something to occupy him. Genji had left him long ago back when he was still hunched over stacks of paper, a short explanation of where he would be and a brush of metal to mimic a kiss on his cheek given as farewell.

 

It takes him half an hour of wandering the halls and checking his phone for Hanzo to get fed up with it. Without work the place is utterly mind-numbing. Interrupting Genji while he spends time with Zenyatta isn’t something he’s particularly inclined to do, so half of his options are gone. He could try texting Lena. Ever since her arm took the beating it did she’s been off duty and possibly even as bored as he is now if her frequent text messages are any indication. It’s nice in a way, but after the seemingly long headache of a day he isn’t sure if he could keep up with her. What he really wants is to relax. Just a little. If he can’t bury his mind into work then he would rather clear it completely.

 

It only takes a few minutes for him to decide what he wants and to head to his room. His bag is of course exactly where he left it, as are the lighter and the pack of smokes stashed inside. He never had a taste for them when they were young and he would catch them held between Genji’s fingers far too often. The years passed had changed that and for a while he had rivalled their late father’s bad habit of it. It isn’t nearly as often now; he’d been slowing down already, and now out here in the middle of nowhere he finds it too cold, and too hard to get access to more if he happens to use the pack up.

The biting feeling in his fingers as he leaves the warmth of inside remains Hanzo once more of why he avoids it. It cuts through his gloves far too aggressively. It doesn’t help that he’s not on the ground floor. He’s found that leaving through most doors on the main floor will end up in running into someone at some point no matter how much effort he puts into avoiding the outcome. There’s too much foot traffic around the base unless it’s pitch black in the evening. He would have to be crazy to try and survive it outside at those hours this time of the year. No, he much prefers the secluded exterior stairways and platforms that reside along the walls of the higher levels.

The dark metal railing is an aching kind of cold on his arms when he rests them there. His jacket provides some barrier but not enough to keep it out entirely. One of the cigarettes is placed between his lips, teeth skimming the filter while he cups his hands to keep the wind at bay while he lights it. The flavor and burn that fill his lungs makes him grimace at just how aware he always is of how gross it is, but on the exhale makes it worth it. A sliver of his tension and irritation ebb as he slouches into the railing. The sun is starting to set as it has been earlier and earlier each day. It lights the sky with odd hues of orange and pink mixed with the dull gray that had painted the day. It will take less than an hour for it all to be swallowed by black. More than anything it makes him miss long nights in the summer in Hanamura when light would still try and streak color across the sky well into the late hours of the night.

A long sigh passes through Hanzo’s lips as he frowns around the cigarette. The doubt that creeps into his thoughts is nothing unexpected. It’s commonplace at this point. Leaving the clan, coming here, joining Overwatch: all of it brought drapes of unease over him in gauzy sheets. Finding himself after so many years of being raised in someone’s image has taken the better part of his life since leaving. His sense of self has grown but his morality and beliefs still waver. There’s nothing set in stone. Seeing the things he had at such a young age, getting involved in things a young man should have no business in, it has warped him more than he would ever like to admit. The violence of the world he grew up in follows him in every split decision he makes and guarded stance he wears. The fire he sees in the eyes of his new colleagues here... he is sure has never lit his own eyes for the same reasons before.

These people fight for what they believe to be right. The world is a mess of dark figures and surging crime rates, and the people around him are all here because they know where they stand… They have picked a side, as Genji had said to him that night, so melancholy in how he chose the words. The world is changing, indeed, and Hanzo has yet to be able to make a definitive choice in where he will fit into it.

Deep down, he knows that joining Overwatch is his best bet to stay with the one thing he has never doubted. The only one feeling he has ever committed so fully and so wholly to. There is so much room to try and reason that maybe he did doubt, maybe he had a moment where he didn’t believe in it. But he knows that isn’t true. Even in their worst hours, Hanzo has loved Genji. Everything from the day his little brother was born until now; there has always been love flowing through him towards the little sparrow in one form or another. His traitorous faults have never been able to truly sever that. That’s the only reason he could ever jump into this without any true desire to change this world for the better. Hanzo had years to come to realise that there might not ever be someone who loves him in the same unconditional way that Genji does. There may never be anyone else who fits against him as if made for each other. The hole left behind without him is too much to bare. If it ever happened a second time… He can’t think about what it would do to him. Faking his loyalty to this cause and pretending to take the moral high road is very low down on the list of things Hanzo would be willing to do to keep himself by his lover’s side.

The cigarette is thrown unceremoniously over the side of the rail where it will fall into heaps of snow, and Hanzo pulls the heavy metal door open. He relishes in the blast of warm air that hits his front. A fair amount of time has passed and the amount of people around has diminished to a few stragglers here and there. No one gives a glance his way while he makes his way back to his room. His keycard is cold under his hand where it finds it in his pocket and plays with it idly.

Around the last corner and a few feet away from him, standing to the side of his door, Genji catches him with a gaze. He’s leaning against the wall in a pair of grey sweatpants that look a little too baggy for his figure, and a pillow is clutched in his arms against his chest. The silver metal still covers his face but Hanzo is getting good at this. He knows Genji’s eyes are meeting his own.

“ _I would have thought you missed your own room.”_ Hanzo says in a quiet voice so the hallway doesn’t echo it at all. He fore-goes pleasantries altogether - his tone is light enough that it isn’t rude. Not that Genji ever cared much for the social constructs holding together propriety.

The cyborg shakes his head to Hanzo’s side. Metal fingers curl into the cover of fabric on the pillow as he speaks. “ _My room is too empty.”_

A small hum of acknowledgement leaves Hanzo at the words. His keycard slides into place and the sharp click sounds the doors unlocked state, swung open under one of Hanzo’s hands. The other is extended out towards Genji with his palm upward. Without any verbal confirmation needed, Genji’s hand comes up to his own and rests there with a meaningful squeeze. Genji is unsure. Hesitant but looking for reassurance in him like he has so many times in their past. Probably incredibly sleepy too with how his feet drag a little as he enters the room.

The door is closed behind them and the click of the lock is accompanied by the soft hiss of Genji’s mask being released. It’s stupid but the fact that the sound is becoming familiar makes Hanzo’s stomach warm in a nice way. His own clothes are thrown into the laundry and Genji’s plating is left in a neat pile on the table. The mattress creaks softly when Hanzo sits on it’s edge to go about the nightly routine. His fingers massage into the flesh around the implanted metal at the end of his limbs. As he does he can feel Genji hovering without needing to look up to see it. He’s hesitating again.

Looking up, Hanzo sees on his little brother’s face that he wants to say something, but is probably thinking that he would rather Hanzo reads his mind. He had said it once before while wearing the same kind of expression. Before he can have the chance to say anything Hanzo speaks first. _“Otōto, come. I want you.”_

The simple words are enough. Genji comes forward to stand in front of him and hug around his neck almost too tightly. The iridescent green lights are dimmer than normal in front of his face and the plating feels warm when he nuzzles his cheek to his stomach. After that it doesn’t take any convincing to have Genji lay down with him on the crisp, clean recently replaced sheets. A soft command to Athena turns the lights off, and the green point of light under the sheets dim until they’re almost completely gone. The sparrow’s body thrums and slows as lazy circles are traced onto his hip by Hanzo’s thumb. The younger dragon drifts off easier than he thought he would and it gives him a chance to breach the small space between them. A kiss is placed over the scar that crosses his nose, without worry of the small act upsetting his lover while he sleeps. Hanzo falls asleep in due time with his thoughts resolute; Whatever Genji was thinking - Whatever doubts he had, Hanzo wants them gone.   
  
  


When he wakes up in the morning it’s to the annoying drone of the alarm blaring in the hall, and to a very empty bed. His hand moves over the space Genji had occupied groggily. How had he managed to sleep through him leaving, he has no clue. He feels like maybe he should feel upset about it, or something negative, but no feeling like that ever comes. His smell still lingers on the pillows, and once he’s awake enough to reach for his phone he sees a message from a new contact: Genji. He left for morning meditation and left his pajama shorts there… and he loves him, with a long trail of different heart emoticons added to the end. It’s just silly and cute enough that it makes him smile.

Getting ready takes a few minutes then he’s off to breakfast in a better mood than he’s been in for months. He’s greeted by an overly exaggerated wave as he walks through the cafeteria doors, which he actually finds himself smiling at, too. The wave is returned, his food is gotten and only then does he join the table where Lena takes him by the arm and pulls him into the seat next to her.

“Good morning! You look awful chipper. Let me guess, you already heard the news?” Lena says as he sets his tray down and pokes a spoon at what looks to be a bowl of oatmeal, but he doesn’t trust it.

“News?” He asks with a hint of curiosity.

“Oh,” She giggles out her contagious, pretty laugh. “Oops! Guess not. Oh well, now I get to be the bearer of good news!”

He scoffs a light laugh in return. His eyes land on her in a teasingly annoyed face. “Then get on with it, hm?”

Her hand on her unhurt arm comes up to cover her mouth as she laughs again. Her tray is already mostly cleared, and around them are a few people at the table who don’t blink an eye at their antics. “Bossy. But okay! As of today you’re one of us - officially!”

One of his dark brows spikes up in a look of surprise and confusion. “Already?”

“The process is kind of BS now that we aren’t really operating under the UN. Winston gets final say right now. You didn’t hear it from me, but he says he didn’t have to even think about it.” She grins wide at him in a way that makes her look so young, and her plastered elbow digs into his side right under his ribs.

He coughs from the jab and pushes back. That seems to make her even happier somehow. She doesn’t let up on the chit chat but she doesn’t ever push for him to talk. She’s his friend, as weird as that is to think about. If he hadn’t thought of Genji as his best friend for his entirely life, and still now, she would fill that title well. Maybe two best friends is acceptable. He eats some while she goes from topic to topic and in the end he drinks more coffee than food. Another bad habit he picked up somewhere when he started choosing morning coffees from corporate cafes instead of having traditional teas. Quicker, more convenient before work.

After breakfast is when Hanzo officially gets the news while standing in Winston’s office - a far too common occurrence now. Outside the tall windows the sun is rising steadily over the distance mountains, hopefully meaning it will stay sunny instead of storming all day. He’s distracted as he’s told his room number, and told the schedule for times when he’ll be properly trained on operations and protocols will be there for him. His things are his to move, but the keycard to the old room will have to be returned. He’ll be briefed on what’s going on globally and what their plans of action are once he is placed upon the ranks accordingly. It’s all… incredibly uninspiring. A new key card is given to him with a strange pattern and a series of numbers on it. Finally, after what feels like forever, he’s dismissed. His hesitation is abundantly clear as he responds with an unsure ‘yes sir’. Luckily, Winston gives a hearty laugh and tells him to ‘practice it, Shimada.’

A box is easy to procure from the old office spaces after asking the right people. Not that he has much to pack up. Hanzo fills it with his clothes and whatever other little trinkets or items he’s picked up other the last month. Anything actually important stays in his backpack where his arrows are secured in the quiver on it. While packing he thinks about it and texts his new room number to both Lena and Genji (Angela will already know, she always somehow knows everything). Lena doesn’t respond immediately, making the 50/50 odds sway a little. The text to Genji is sent with a tentative, simple red heart.

He’s about to lock the phone when the device buzzes in his hand with several different texts from Genji.

 

Genji<3:

Omg! (*^▽^*)!!

 

That’s not far from my room!

 

You should come to my room sometime

 

If you want

 

Can i come to yours again tonight?

 

is that okay? ( ；´Д｀)

 

One day with his number. Just one, and Genji is already being the dirty double texter he’s been his entire life. In the privacy of his own room, where no one can see it, he rolls his eyes. Some things really don’t ever change, and he supposes it’s always been kind of endearing. It reminds him of how Genji talks when he’s excited or nervous. A short text is sent to confirm that he has full permission to stay the night with him again. His phone is placed back in his pocket and he checks the whole room over again before he’s satisfied that he’s gotten everything.

The path to the agent’s quarters is familiar from walking Lena and Genji there so it’s no issue to find the door that has the correct number on the fancy little metal plate beside it. He’s never noticed the lack of any doorknobs on the doors until he tries to reach out and find it - how did he not notice that before? He had no reason to closely exam any of the doors but still. That’s ridiculous. Onyx eyes scan the door until they come upon something built into the door that looks like a more advanced version of the card reader for his now vacant old room. Fishing his new card out, he holds it out in front of the panel in the door and a thin blue light comes to scan over the pattern. The voice that resounds almost makes him jump enough to drop the box in his arms.

“Welcome, Agent number one four nine…” Athena’s soft automated voice comes from somewhere hard to pinpoint, listing the same numbers that are on his card. It’s loud enough for him to hear it where he stands right in front of the room, but anyone further would have trouble picking it up.

After the reception is complete the metal door slides open bottom to top until it disappears within the wall above. Hanzo stares at where it ascended even as he walks under it. After he’s half a foot into the room and out of the way it closes again with a sound that reminds him of the shōji back at the castle, only without the lightness of wood. Instead it’s more airy. Inside the room is at least twice as nice than his previous lodgings. The room is bigger, able to fit a twin size bed and dresser comfortably with space left to move. There’s no table but there’s a desk with more surface area near a window. An actual window, with curtains. The glass looks to be bulletproof, and probably enforced to keep it safe from anything else. The view isn’t spectacular but if he ever wants to see a vast expanse of asphalt covered in snow, he now can. The bed doesn’t creak when he sets the box on it or when he sits on its end. Underneath his hands the white comforter is thick and pleasant to the touch and more than anything Hanzo wants to lay down and shove his face into it. He’s sure the schedule is laying on the desk like he was told. His eyes move over to the surface at a glacial pace. That… can be handled later.

Without fuss Hanzo holds his arm out to the bed and mutters until his skin glows with two equal lengths of blue light. His dragons manifest in manageable size on the blanket that they hardly disturb - no weight to displace the static object. Both of them look around the room and pry at him silently for confirmation that they can take in the new room. He merely nods - that’s all it takes for them to both dash off the bed in coiling masses. Their exploration starts and Hanzo begins to unpack the box at his side.

Even though it doesn’t actually take long Hanzo decides to take all day to switch rooms. The excuse lets him relax on the full sized bed and scroll through his phone and watch his dragons in a relaxed trance. In the evening Athena’s voice gently announces Genji’s presence at his door. When the door is opened on his command his little brother already has his mask held in his hands, stood at the doorway with a colorful blanket draped around his shoulders. His hand raises in a small wave and before anything can even be said both the dragons that had settled into place on the floor are all over him. Ridiculous, but cute when Genji looks so surprised by it. The spirits would usually reign themselves in better around an audience but no one can blame them after so long of not being physically around the one who holds their ethereal sibling. It doesn’t take long for Genji to end up on the floor with the green counterpart let loose into the room as well. With their sister present, the two blue dragons remain occupied enough for Genji to join Hanzo on the bed. From there, the night is spent with lazy kisses and quiet conversation exchanged between them, about the upcoming plans, training, occurrences in Genji’s day that he found funny. Anything and everything lighthearted until they both fall asleep underneath the covers and the earthy smelling blanket Genji had brought along.

 

The next day is much less relaxed. Not relaxed at all, really. It takes roughly half an hour of training for Hanzo to learn that Ana Amari is very sweet to talk to but absolute hell to have as a commander. There’s no yelling, which had initially surprised him, but instead of shouting orders to assert herself she uses far more intimidating tactics; taking her orders lightly or joking off in her presence warrants scarily serene smiles with molten eyes and laps until Hanzo’s sure the poor soldier who slacked off is going to loss the contents of his stomach. It makes a quick example of why not to mess with her. Hanzo isn’t inexperienced in tough physical teachings, luckily. Each of the exercises and routines set up on the snowy fields is cleared without complaint, and almost always before the rest of the small group has finished. It doesn’t gain him anything more than brief nods of approval, but he’s sat and spoke with her too many times to not notice the pleased look in her eyes whenever he meets or exceeds expectations. After it’s over and he’s on his way back to his room, he runs into Genji and knows it’s by no way an accident when teasing hands linger too long at his waist and teeth skim his lips in a short kiss. Being pulled into the shower in his room is no surprise, just as the sight of the same afghan blanket sprawled over his bed when they fall into it isn’t.

 

The rest of the week falls into the same kind of routine. Initial recruit training takes up his time during the days, and some late evenings. Genji becomes an ever welcome constant. No texts are sent to ask whether or not he has permission anymore, Hanzo merely expects his brother to be waiting around the door or even be there to walk with him back after training is done. Sometimes Genji will be there in the mornings or sometimes he will have already left to meditate with affectionate good morning messages sent to Hanzo’s phone for him to wake up to. Somewhere along the way Genji’s friends have started to accompany them at lunch and dinner, and even more surprisingly, accompany Hanzo even when Genji isn’t there. Angela sits with him when she’s available to, and more often than not Hana and Dae-hyun will go out of their way to find him to sit with along with Lena. McCree only comes around with Genji, but that’s fine by him. It’s awkward conversation,but conversation nonetheless. It’s nice. Normal, even, for the first time in a long time.

 

By the end of the month Hanzo is called into Winston’s office again. Always striving for excellence, he ends up in the top percentage in his training group. The offer of advancing to higher levels of training is offered, and no thought has to go into accepting it. It’s true that he still has no real interest in the selflessness and heroism of the gig. Staying with Genji can only be accomplished with climbing ranks to be placed in the same, or relatively close to the same position. Shaking Winston’s hand and seeing his hopeful smile should sour Hanzo’s stomach much more than it does, but in the long run, he’s done much worse things for much more dubious reasons in the past. Protecting Genji is more than worth it in the end. All of the long hours of blood and sweat put into the advanced training and every headache from having to study regulations and important procedures is hardly any cost to him when it ends how he wants: climbing ranks until he’s stood in front of Winston once more in the grand space of his makeshift office in early December. Three months of conditioning later. Ana and Reinhardt had put in good word after their month of one on one training sessions, and he’s been having sparring matches with both Genji and Lena whenever their free time allowed it. Attending briefings of the status of different crises and world terrorist organizations has informed him of all of the organization’s operations and their different means of information and data collection. Everything has fallen into place perfectly, and when Winston smiles at him this time, it feels like he’s earned it.

“I’m sure you know why you’re here, but procedure demands I spell it out for you anyways.” He starts where he stands on all fours in front of Hanzo, too informal and friendly but still serious. “Agent Shimada, you have shown exceptional skill and intelligence in all fields of your training. Your sharp eye and keen reflexes are remarkable and would serve well in a higher standing here at Overwatch. You are being offered the honor and responsibility of a position as a member of the Strike Force Team, first response team of Overwatch special operations. Should you accept, you will join become an official member and receive continual special training as such, and must meet the expectations set upon you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” Hanzo answers firmly. The dressed up words don’t mean much to him, since he knows more about the team than he ever had any right to. Dating one of the members makes it hard not to know.

Winston nods firmly in return. “Do you accept this position?”

He doesn’t have to take any time to think about his answer. His mind has been made since he first sent that text months ago, since first filling out and signing the recruitment contracts. Everytime he sees his brother the decision is cemented further. This is right. This is the only way to keep Genji by his side where he’ll be safe. Never again will he let anything harm his brother’s life. “I accept.”

* * *

 Christmas at Overwatch is always overwhelming, in the best kind of way. It’s spectacular how even though the facility had been out of commission and buried under snow just half a year earlier it’s now lit up and looking how Genji remembers it all those years ago. The occupied halls and the rooms that are in use are slowly filled with lively decor as December moves along. Long trails of tinsel and garland follow the halls while multicolored Christmas lights light up the arches of doorways. Reinhardt, Torbjorn, and Bridgette drag in a huge pine tree halfway through the month and spend an entire day trying to wrangle it into the mess hall then decorate it properly. In the end no one can reach to place the topper without risking toppling the entire thing (Reinhardt says it ‘gives it character’ to put the angel lower down). Everyone seems just a little bit cheerier and more willing to get along, even Jesse brightens up some when they’re all sat together. Nothing makes Genji smile more than walking in to dinner one day and seeing his brother and best friend already talking at their usual table.

Christmas day creeps up closer, and on the eve before it, it feels surreal. The lounge in their living quarters is warm with the electric fireplace lit and faintly crackling in it’s manufactured way. One of the ancient board games that had been hidden away was dusted off and now sits on the floor with Bridgette, Lena, Mei and Fareeha surrounding each side with frequent loud exclamations and shouts. From where Genji is sat on the couch he can just barely see Fareeha’s mother nursing a coffee cup and watching Winston and Reinhardt arm wrestle each other at the table near the kitchenette. Beside him on the couch Hanzo is quiet and warm against his side. It had taken more than a bit of begging to get the man into the ‘disgustingly festive’ sweater that he’s in and even just looking over at him brings a grin to Genji’s face. No one can see it but Hanzo’s arm is behind him, trapped between the back of the couch and slid under Genji’s own sweater to trace over the notches of his spine. It’s a constant, incredibly welcome touch that makes it hard to concentrate on talking to Zenyatta where he sits on his other side.

“The concept is interesting. I wouldn’t say it’s entirely impossible.” Zenyatta’s voice is quiet in the constant sound and movement of the room. His array is a soft, contemplative blue that flickers with what Genji knows is thought.

“If she could do it for me so long ago, she could do it for you, Master.” Genji matches the softness of the omnic’s voice easily. It’s odd how even in the loud room things can feel so serene. Relaxing against hanzo’s side with the ever comforting hum of Zenyatta’s body beside him makes it all too easy to feel at ease.

“Yes, I don’t doubt her ability,” There’s no change to Zen’s outward appearance but Genji knows the exact moment his master turns cheeky. “But is it really worth the trouble of such a drastic alteration just to taste christmas cake?”

“Yes.” Genji says firmly with a big smile.

The touches at his back stop and rest in place, making him turn just in time to see Hanzo paying attention to their conversation. “Not everyone is as obsessed with sweets as you are.”

His mouth falls open in a very light mockery of offense. In honesty, the little spark of happiness that he always gets when Hanzo joins into conversations with him comes back full force from the words. The fingers at his back begin to move again and Hanzo’s lips curve in the softest smile. Enough to make Genji blush. “If I remember it correctly, _you_ were the one who would always be caught sneaking it with icing on your fingers when we were little.”

“I was _not_.” The haughty huff from Hanzo is the same as his own offense - entirely fake. The bigger smile is pulling insistently at the edge of his brother’s lips, only stopping when beside them Zenyatta laughs his light and airy laugh. Like wind chimes hung on summer days. Genji joins a moment later and the blush that grows on Hanzo’s cheeks is cute as all hell. The sweetest revenge possible.

“Were to.” The playful argument continues and conversation between the three makes Genji ecstatic. The night wears on and slowly but surely the occupants of the room taper off with goodnights and ‘Merry Christmas’s. When Zenyatta leaves for bed Genji gives him a soft kiss on the cheek of his faceplate and Hanzo gives him a polite goodnight, and it’s leaves them on the couch with only Ana and Reinhardt sitting with their coffees talking quietly to each other.

“Sparrow,” Hanzo grabs his attention with the hushed petname. “ _Come to bed with me?_ ” The question is even quieter and spoken in Japanese, likely in hopes that the other two in the room won’t pick on it. It’s hardly even a question that needs to be asked at this point. It’s a miracle no one has noticed that Genji doesn’t really use his own room most of the time. His belongings have slowly been migrating over to his brother’s room from night after night spent there. If anyone has noticed, they haven’t said anything. It wouldn’t surprise him if Zenyatta already knew. Zenyatta has commented more than once about his mood in the last few months. The sense of completeness that has come to his life is making everything better, including his relationship with the Iris as he works to become closer to true enlightenment. It’s not something Zen would miss when they’re so close.

“Yes.” Genji answers and bravely takes hold of Hanzo’s hand and slots his fingers in the spaces between Hanzo’s. He can see the way it wears on his brother’s nerves to be so openly affectionate, but it doesn’t phase him. It’s innocent, nothing that could be taken out of the ordinary in the soft setting that has settled over the room.

They leave the room with quick farewells to the commander and her beau. The walk to Hanzo’s room is leisurely and filled with Genji placing kisses wherever Hanzo will allow in such a public space, even if there’s no one in sight around them. By the time the door opens, the light comes on, and they’re inside his brother is about as red as most of the decorations that fill the building.

“ _You are a menace.”_ Hanzo’s voice is gruff with embarrassment. The comment has no sting or any real meaning to it, and it only serves to make Genji grin more.

“ _I am your menace.”_ He corrects and sets his hands on Hanzo’s hips. It’s all too easy to guide him back against the wall and kiss at his scruffy jaw when he’s flustered.

The only response he gets is a light grunt and warm hands trailing back up under his sweater again. This time they quest up his smooth sides and to his chest where his skin is uncovered. His plating is somewhere scattered around the room. It was foregone for the clothes he has on now. Not to say that Genji was expecting anything, but hoping… maybe. The brush of the soft pads of Hanzo’s fingers raise goosebumps over his skin and encourage him to pull back enough for the thick sweater to be pulled up over his head, leaving his hair a little messier. Worth it when it makes it easier for Hanzo to touch him more. Even now, after being back together for this long, his touches are still reverent, ravishing the planes of his body like he’ll never get enough. Rough, calloused fingers smooth along the seam of color on his neck and land on his cheek to pull him into Hanzo’s lips.

It’s somewhere between sweet and craving as Hanzo’s tongue swipes over Genji’s lips to gain entrance, always freely given. If it were up to him, he thinks Hanzo might keep them locked together like that forever. He’s always so eager in how he invades his mouth with passionate licks and strokes of his tongue. It never fails to get a surge of arousal pulling at his groin. It makes his brother’s love feel so undeniable - completely irrevocable. Technically, it would probably be possible for them to kiss forever if not for Hanzo’s need for air. Genji has more ways to gain the oxygen he needs, and ways that wouldn’t interrupt the feeling of Hanzo’s lips melding so perfectly to his own. Unfortunately, Hanzo does need the break to gasp in a lungful of air within the inch of space left when they pull away.

_“Remember…”_ Genji takes in a breath. _“When we were little and on Christmas I said I wanted to spend every Christmas eve with you?”_

Hanzo nods and in a careful movement his head is tipped back against the wall. His muscles relax further under the circles Genji’s thumbs rub above his hip bones while kiss after kiss is pressed to his neck. Never enough to mark, but enough to tease the idea. “ _Yes. Father and mother laughed at you… said you would spend it with your boyfriend and you said I could be your boyfriend too. You were so sulky…”_ He laughs and the sound warms Genji’s stomach.

_“Remember when you came into my room after everyone had gone to sleep? The Christmas after my eighteenth birthday? You were so nervous, anija. So cute. You felt so good.”_ He ghosts hot breaths over Hanzo’s collar while he speaks just to feel the way his body reacts with a little shiver. _“The best present you ever gave me.”_

A clipped breath leaves Hanzo and Genji decides to give him just a moment to get himself together. His hands leave Hanzo’s hips and instead move down to his own jeans to pop the button open and start to push them down.

_“Really? That was the best gift? Not the nights at Rikimaru, or the many,many games you always asked for?”_ He can’t see it, but he can practically sense Hanzo rolling his eyes. Luckily, the light annoyance is completely forgotten once his jeans hit the floor completely. His sneakers are slipped off and kicked away with the pants. Feeling Hanzo’s eyes on him always makes him giddy. Tonight he made sure they would stay on him.

Dark red and black lace hug the bare curves of his hips, framed with a little bow at each pronounced hipbone. It was annoying to deal with throughout the evening, but the modesty panel that usually covers him has been open the entire time to let his length be cradled with the fabric. The black bulge stretches the lace in a way that he himself finds pretty, and he hopes Hanzo finds irresistible. The socks over his thighs are snugly placed over the armor on his shins. Thin, black, and smooth, they have cute ruffles at the top where the elastic keeps them at his thighs. It’s nothing extravagant. If he had better access, he would have done it up so much more, but it took long enough to arrange going into the towns miles away from the base to shop. He gave more than a few favors and excuses to make it possible. It all pays off with how those deep onyx eyes eat up the pretty picture of Genji in the dark lingerie.

Genji sees Hanzo’s hands reaching out in time to take hold of them both and smirk at him. In a slow fluid movement he goes down onto his knees in front of him. His legs spread in a very purposeful show of how the panties stretch, and the choked sound from above is adorable. With both of his hands occupied in the hold, he leans in and lets his cheek nuzzle up against the growing erection he can feel under Hanzo’s pants. Thinking about how he’ll soon be able to feel it throb and jump from his touches makes his mouth water in want.

_“Genji, you don’t have to-”_ Hanzo tries to start but doesn’t get far. A hand is freed so Genji can grasp the firm shape of the dick in front of him and knead gently over the thick fabric. Hanzo goes quiet instantly and his legs part the slightest bit to let Genji fit better between them.

_“Consider it your present.”_ Genji almost snickers to himself when he thinks about how it’s a present for both of them in turn.

The zipper of Hanzo’s pants is undone quickly and then both hands are released in order for them to be pulled down his thighs, quickly forgotten once Genji gets his lips around the clothed length before him. The fabric of his boxers takes a moment to get moist under Genji’s less than wet tongue, but once it does Hanzo’s breath hitches in the most pretty way. It seems his lover gets the idea. Above him the ugly Christmas sweater is shed and tossed somewhere onto the floor along with the rest of their clothes. Two strong hands make their way into his short green locks and lovingly grip him closer. Never forceful, but always encouraging once Hanzo gives into it. He’s extra careful as he catches the wet boxers between his teeth to tug down roughly.

_“Careful-”_ Hanzo grunts in poorly hidden arousal even while trying to make a fuss about it. Just the same as ever; he can never truly, completely relax enough to let himself enjoy things properly.

_“Anija, relax.”_ His voice is silky once he releases the clothing, letting it sit at Hanzo’s thighs. In front of him, directly blocking his view of his brother’s handsome face, his cock hangs heavy and thick. The foreskin covers the pretty, deeply flushed head until a careful hand reaches to gently pull it back. A moan leaves Hanzo at the same time as precum comes to glisten at the little slit at his tip. He just catches the way Hanzo’s stomach jumps in excitement at the light slide of Genji’s tongue to taste the salty wetness.

From there, he finally draws the need out of him. Hanzo finally melts back against the wall properly and pushes his hand down on the back of his head. There’s no resistance or fight. He gladly parts his lips to take the head of Hanzo’s cock into his mouth in a dirty, sucking kiss. His tongue swirls to dip into the silky foreskin and brush over the sensitive glans hidden underneath. The stuttering moans he earns go straight to his quickly hardening member trapped in his panties. The wetness beneath that soaks into the lace is almost obscene feeling. He should probably get Angela to make it so there’s some better regulation to how much he actually gets wet, but before now it had never been much of an issue for doing things by himself. Now, with Hanzo’s musky scent and his taste bursting over his tongue, it’s impossible not to get over excited about it.

Hanzo’s hold on his head gently urges him further and he’s eager to please. He opens his jaw wider and lets his tongue cushion the thickness as he slides further down onto his shaft. He can’t stop his eyes from fluttering. One of his hands comes up to rest on Hanzo’s hip while the other reaches down to squeeze and grip his own erection where it grows to full hardness.

_“Ot_ _ō_ _to,”_ The deep quality of Hanzo’s voice makes shivers run along his spine. His eyes slowly glide their attention up until they’re on Hanzo’s face, who is looking right back down at him. The blush on his cheeks does nothing to dull the hard, sharp look in his eyes. _“Have you forgotten our rules?”_

The whine that climbs up Genji’s throat is muffled once it reaches his mouth. It’s reluctant but he does pull his hand away from where it was palming at himself. It feels mean to have the ‘no touching’ rule still applied when he finally has the right hardware to jerk himself off how he’s wanted to every single time he’s ever had his brother’s dick in his mouth. Still, he complies to the cruelness. It’s always worth it in the end.

_“Good boy.”_ Hanzo delivers the praise and it pools between Genji’s hips with a needy moan. _“Keep going.”_

His efforts double. Mindful of his gag reflex, he pushes himself more. They haven’t spoken about all of it in detail, so he isn’t sure if Hanzo would have the same reactions to him gagging around him as he used to, but the idea is equally tempting and off-putting. Instead of just going in for it he takes it slow with how he bobs his head. He purposely collects saliva so he can let it drool over the heated flesh, knowing the visual will drive his brother crazy. Feeling the familiar vein twitch and jump on the flat of his tongue is more satisfying than he had originally thought it would be. It’s never been so easy to work Hanzo up to the edge this quickly. That’s the only good thing about the long absence of each other - now they’re both too starved for each other to even try and last properly for long.

Or so Genji thinks before sudden, stinging pain erupts at the back of his head and he’s pulled back. Hanzo’s cock slides along his tongue and leaves with a mess of spit dripping along it. He leaves his mouth open, tongue stuck out as he looks up at Hanzo’s face to see why he didn’t get to feel the rush of thick, salty cum into his mouth. He can see he’s holding back and panting, and it’s solidified when his other hand curls fingers around the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm.

_“Han…”_ He pants, voice not nearly as rough as he would have liked. The very idea of Hanzo using his throat to please himself makes his face twice as hot.

_“Onto the bed, sparrow.”_ Hanzo speaks and Genji can’t help but to be amused by how he still keeps hold of his cock. With a growing grin he starts to move to stand, but as soon as he tries the hand in his hair shoves him back down so his knees hit the floor with a thud. Luckily it doesn’t hurt at all… or maybe unluckily. He can’t choose. The next word is spoken hard and firm. _“Crawl.”_

Genji’s moan is small and breathless as he nods. He lowers his hands to the floor and starts to walk on hands and knees towards the bed. It’s made harder by the tight hold in his short hair; every time he moves too fast or too slow his hair is pulled by fingers clenched tight while Hanzo walks alongside him. Only once they complete the few feet it takes to get to the bed does he let go and let Genji get up onto the bed. Then it’s as if the harsh hold had never happened at all. Gentle hands caress his back and guide him so he’s leaning forward with his cheek pressed to the soft blankets that smell so much like home - both homes, Hanzo and Nepal mixed into one. He relaxes under Hanzo’s hand as it smooths down his back to rest just above his ass.

_“You really are still so good for me.”_ The sweet comment is spoken with a few soft kisses pressed to his hip where Hanzo pulls down the lace. It shifts the tent in the fabric so the delicate flesh drags over the flat of his groin, smearing precum there. His small gasp is shushed and cooed at. _“I have you, my love.”_

Whoever gave Hanzo the right to flip so fastly from rudely dragging him across the floor to making him feel like putty in his hands? It gives him whiplash, growing the suspense up until it tingles over his skin to feel Hanzo’s hands, unsure if he’ll get something sweet or something punishing. For the most part, it seems as if he’s settled for sweet for the time being. Gentle fingers move from his hip to his thigh and then to the embarrassingly wet panties. They cling to his cunt where it’s puffy and all too visible through the lace, and when Hanzo’s fingers slide along him the fabric gets pressed even further into his folds. He squirms, earning him a push of Hanzo’s hand on his lower back so his legs slide on the sheets and open wider.

_“Ah… come on.”_ Genji eagerly wiggles his hips to try and entice him. _“Touch me, please.”_

The hum from behind him is contemplative at best. The few seconds with Hanzo’s fingers sitting still on his pussy are torturous. Then the fingers hook around the lace and pull it to the side, the wetness peeling away making Genji cringe until teeth sink into the fleshy seat of his ass and a yelp sounds from him.

_“Impatient.”_ Hanzo says, but Genji knows - he’s no better. His voice is tight, and not with authority. It’s tight with barely contained want that matches the want coiling up restlessly in Genji’s gut.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it, though. The panties stay shoved to the side and Hanzo’s rough fingers return to run directly over the warm, soaked flesh. His dick feels way too tight where it’s trapped in the garment and it only gets worse when two fingers push deep inside of him, drawing out a needy cry. It doesn’t hurt with how aroused he is, but the small amount of ache that comes with the sudden stretch is enough to stroke the part of him that loves the mix of pain and pleasure. Hanzo knows it, he must. Genji isn’t given any time to adjust before those fingers are pulled out and fucked right back into him with the lewdest of sounds. His hands grab onto the blankets below and bunch them up to his face to brace himself for the pleasure pulled forcibly from him. To his surprise, Hanzo lets him muffle his pathetic sounds into them.

_“Is this what you wanted, sparrow? Did you want to be full of me and singing so prettily? You have always been such a slut for this.”_ In the midst of the pleasure fogging over his mind, Genji notices the subtle difference coming to light. Hanzo had mentioned their old rules, which Genji remembered as if they had been made just yesterday. Most were practical, and set for good reason. Hiding their affairs from everyone else on the estate was priority number one above all else, and Hanzo had always made it clear that if there was too much risk, he wouldn’t give into any of Genji’s pleading and teasing. So there were rules, all of them discussed in great detail. No messes left behind - Genji was to always swallow. No excessive noise - if he was too loud he wouldn’t be brought to finish, and if he finished without permission he’d be denied for even longer for the rest of the week. It was all a big game wrapped around keeping their relationship under the radar, with the added benefit of enjoying themselves with it. Obviously now the rules wouldn’t have to be used as such in the privacy afforded by the high class security of their rooms. Yet it doesn’t quite add up. Hanzo warned him to play by the rules, and all the guidance and rough treatment implies rougher play… But he’s holding back. Before, if Genji had egged him on like that Hanzo would have happily given him a sharp swat at his thigh or ass. His tone is still firm but there’s no hint of anything close to demeaning. Hell, it could be taken as praise if you look between the lines. Hanzo won’t hurt him anymore, even like this, even putting on a show and pretending.

The realization has him tensing without thinking about it. He tightens around the digits, hard enough to halt how Hanzo moves them. The steady pace falls to nothing and the hand on Genji’s back moves up to press in between his shoulder blades. It shouldn’t be surprising that Hanzo would be against doing such things or be simply not ready for it yet, yet the thought is jarring because of the reasons behind it. His heart rate raises past that of being turned on and into something verging on panicky. Before his breath can follow with it he forces himself to take in a deep lungful of air and slowly let it out. The entire time Hanzo doesn’t move, and it sets Genji at even more unease.

_“A… anija, don’t stop.”_ His lack of steady breath doesn’t come off as anything other than excitement _._ The hand braced upon his back moves up to massage at the back of his neck and the slow circular motions actually work to calm him down some.

Behind him Hanzo speaks warm and calm, with the air of control that he has always been able to fall into under the right circumstances. _“Relax, and then I will give you what you need.”_

Genji isn’t sure whether or not Hanzo can see or feel his nod. He swallows thickly and pushes his face a little further into the blanket to take in more of the familiar scent weaved into the thread, and goes along with his lover’s instruction. Years of practice in centring himself and reigning his thoughts in make the task somewhat simpler, along with how Hanzo praises him as he continues to relax. Once he no longer has a death clutch on the fingers inside of him they start to move again - slower this time. Hanzo works them gentle and careful, and Genji isn’t sure if that’s better or worse than the onslaught of sensation that the rough treatment had given him. He knows if he asked, or even just uttered their old established safeword it would all stop in an instant. He also knows that he should call it now, as soon as it has become too much. He’s experienced enough to know that it isn’t safe, but there’s an illogical, insecure part of him that wants Hanzo to go further. Some part of him wants his brother to be able to go back to tugging and name calling, and then even further. So he stays quiet as the pace is eased back to what it had formerly been.

For a short while it doesn’t feel right, or as arousing as it had been. Not until the fingers curl downwards just enough for the pads to press and rub against the bundle of sensors that have pleasure surging through him by design. It drags a sharp cry out of him and leaves him panting hotly into the already warm blanket beneath him.

_“There… that’s more like my sparrow.”_ Hanzo’s voice comes closer to his ear as he leans over his back slightly. His fingers lightly brush the spot on the next thrust, then once he’s more sure of it’s whereabouts he comes close to practically jabbing it. Genji feels the static through his system more than he hears it. The input jumps along his wiring, something he’s never even come close to feeling when pleasuring himself. The sound he makes is clipped and keening, and before he knows it his body is reacting to the rush of sensory overload in the only viable way it knows how - throwing him headfirst into an orgasm.

Once more his body clutches at the digits inside of him. This time it’s with deep throbs of the muscles that work around the fingers and make cum gush out around them. The same mess is soaked into the front of the panties as it pulses out of his cock liberally, until it’s dripping through the lace to pool below. His thought process turns to dust for what feels like forever. A soft state of hazy awareness comes over him while things stabilize properly once more, and by then he can feel the slide of the fingers being pulled out of him.

At his side there’s a soft brush of skin against his ear and whispered words, honeyed but tinged with worry. _“It looked like you blacked out. Are you alright?”_ One hand that comes to rest on his hip is dry and the other is slightly wet and sticky, but Genji can’t bring himself to care. If he did black out, it wasn’t for long. It was unexpected, but if he’s real with himself, it’s what he wanted. Even if it wasn’t on purpose, it was rough and overwhelming, and when Genji comes back to himself enough he can feel the sting of tears in his eyes.

A glitched little groan is all he manages in response to the question. His throat feels tight with something he can’t quite place yet with his thoughts such a mess. Something as little as some quick fingering has never unraveled him so much before. It would be much more worrisome if not for the fact that Genji knows his nerves were shot to hell and his system was dealing with regulating other things before Hanzo ever struck the hit to his sensors. Genji knows how this goes by now: too many things to process at once, to much CPU usage to handle so the entire system calls it quits and starts from scratch. Interesting that it chose that specific kind of overload to deal with it, but it makes sense in a way.

Only, now that it has purged everything, the feelings left over are even harder to properly process. Man and machine clashes. Trying to take deep breaths and come back to a state of calm would be the best way to try and combat it, but Hanzo’s voice is still at his ear and nothing is working well enough to completely be able to clear his mind.

_“Genji, what happened? Is something wrong?”_ Hanzo’s questions are more insistent this time even if he’s doing a good job at keeping them quiet and calm. _“You’ve never been like this before.”_

The cause of the tears that well at the edges of his vision is too hard to place. The knowledge that Hanzo is scared of treating him the same as before is still coiling in the back of his mind like a venomous snake waiting until later to strike, until after the haze dissolves. If it strikes now all of the flashbacks and  the irrational fear will be laid out in front of Hanzo like unseemly dirty laundry. Some self preservation defence keeps him from falling apart completely. Instead, he’s merely left trying to hold back tears from being overwhelmed and overstimulated. Of course, things can’t always go perfectly and smooth. Genji knows that better than anyone at this point..

_“No,”_ He answers through the thickness that is stuck at his throat. If Hanzo ends up knowing the truth, this will absolutely all stop. He’ll be forced to confront it all. Dealing with the physical part of this will be easier for them both. _“Nothing is wrong. It doesn’t hurt, it’s okay.”_

_“Look at me.”_ Hanzo somehow manages to make the command sound like anything but. It’s soft and encouraging and it makes the sad ache worse again. He doesn’t want to let any of the traitorous moisture in his eyes to flow over. How the hell are you supposed to tell the love of your life to stop being so nice to you?

There’s no way to do so. Not one that Genji knows of, anyways. So he gives into the tender command. Letting go of the shabby blanket beneath his hands, he rolls over with a deep, shaking breath and sits up on the bed. His eyes find the look of worry on Hanzo’s face to match the earlier words when he looks up at him. His brother’s eyes flicker over his features and Genji can see the panic start to set in before it even fully happens.

_“No, no, stop.”_ He makes his voice as firm as he can. Both arms move to wrap around Hanzo’s waist and pull him as close as he can where the man stands at the edge of the bed. _“You did not hurt me, I’m not hurt. It’s okay, it’s fine.”_ The reassurances rush from his mouth.

When he presses his cheek to Hanzo’s warm abs he can feel how he’s working to keep his breath calm, and then hands return to his hair. Slow fingers brush his hair back into proper place while a deep breath rattles through Hanzo. _“What’s wrong?”_

_“I got…”_ Embarrassment floods through Genji. He’s over thirty yet he suddenly feels like he’s sixteen again and admitting to feelings he finds humiliating. _“...overloaded, that’s all.”_

_“...Overloaded?”_ The word is repeated for clarification.

Genji nods. He doesn’t want to give any further explanation, but he knows Hanzo will never be okay with just that answer. _“There’s lots of sensors there… And it was more intense than usual. It’s always more intense with you.”_ It‘s not a lie, as much as it feels like one as he uses it to cover things up.

Yet when he looks up again Hanzo is looking down at him with a soft smile that helps a little. Saying anything now wouldn’t be right. It isn’t the right time. He isn’t ready, and when he is Hanzo will be there. Hanzo’s clean hand rests on one of his cheeks and Genji gratefully leans into his palm. The closeness of Hanzo’s skin against his own soothes some of the dull sense of dread that still lingers.

_“Well… No more for tonight, then. I’m sorry for giving you more than you could handle.”_ The soft kiss that’s pressed to his forehead is the balm that Genji needs to get rid of the last of the awful feelings. Hanzo’s hands cradling his cheek and head give him the sense of security needed to ward off the tears finally. Somewhere deep down he wonders when and if all of damage will ever fully leave him. For years he’s forgiven Hanzo, and for the last three months the man has done nothing but shown that he wants to reconcile and be with him. Even if it was rocky at the start, it’s only been getting better as time goes on. There’s more to talk about still; getting Hanzo to talk to him was the first step, but there’s so much of his own that he hasn’t told Hanzo. Just… not yet. They’re healing, and that takes time…

The relative silence that comes over the room is more comfortable than anything else. When everything is calm and he feels stable, Genji pulls back gently. He blushes lightly at the words he’s about to say. “Can you do that again some time?”  
  
_“Sparrow…”_ Hanzo sighs with what Genji can only guess is an amused, and hopefully not annoyed laugh. “Anything you want.” This time when he’s guided down onto the bed it’s with Hanzo’s lips pressed to his own, caged safely in his arms.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter this time around. not lots of action but still good stuff imo. warnings for this chapter:
> 
> \- light angst  
> \- canon typical violence  
> \- soldier: 76 comes in this chapter!
> 
> no translations

Winter in Switzerland is far too long. Had they not been high up in the alps, maybe it could be bearable.  _ Maybe.  _ Unfortunately for Hanzo, they are located up in the alps and it sucks. Going from rare snowy days in Hanamura to months on end of freezing conditions wears on a man. The good part of his new promotion is that it doesn’t leave him with a lot of time to worry about it too much. Amari keeps him on his toes with brutal training exercises, both solo and team, now that he’s on the strike team. Both Genji and Jesse make it their job to make his life personal hell during the team exercises. In the long run it will help, but in the moment when they’re both in his ear and hustling him into position or teasing him about slow response times, he doesn’t appreciate the help.

The first real ‘mission’ that Hanzo is assigned to is very clearly a test run. It’s an escort run for a delivery to the base. As important as it probably is for them to have the supplies, Hanzo is no fool. He knows that the strike team’s main priority isn’t babysitting deliveries. He doesn’t complain, though. It’s kind of nice to get off the base. Flying in the helicopter in full gear the first time is a better experience when he’s not worried about the safety of himself or anyone else aboard. Fareeha is assigned along with him, and he finds out quickly how much she takes after her mother once she’s out of the base and in the field, so to speak. While she’s technically not any higher ranked, she does have more experience. Genji and McCree have told him of how she used to be around before, when Overwatch was still at its peak performance, just a kid still and staying there for holidays or breaks. It shows in how she operates as if she’s been doing it her entire life, and nothing but respect is shown to her the entire time. Needless to say, it goes without a hitch. 

Most things do, in fact. Since the incident with Talon getting their hands on Doomfist’s gauntlet things have been incredibly quiet. Every meeting the team has to go over things, Winston always makes sure to tell them to not become unprepared or passive in the organization’s lapse of activity. There are still other, smaller evils to combat while they try and figure out Talon’s next steps, after all. Most of them don’t require any direct or immediate action from the team, though. Other agents come and go, as they always have to Hanzo’s understanding. Collecting information and infiltrating bases of different gangs or criminals around the globe is something that always takes the backseat to bigger terrorist threats, but it’s still important enough to warrant action. Remaining undetected by media and thwarting the legal ramifications of the recall also have to be taken into account. 

All in all, things remain relatively quiet for the most part. The first actual anomaly in operations comes halfway through January. Athena announces the notice for the team to gather in Winston’s office. Ten minutes later, the small group are assembled and idling in the room. Hanzo had come straight from training with Captain Amari at his side, and had watched as the rest filtered into the room. It was no surprise that Genji came in along with Jesse. The green glow of the mask brightened and a little wave was given in his direction along with a greeting for both him and the captain. It took all of Hanzo’s self control not to smile too widely at the cute show of excitement Genji gave at seeing him each time still. He found it happened often when Genji would leave from his room early, like he had that morning. 

Angela comes into the room shortly after, followed by Lena with Fareeha, and Reinhardt afterwards. With everyone there, Winston finally addresses them from where he stands in front of the expanse of wall behind the large table. 

“Apologies for the short notice, but I wanted the team’s opinion on this first before I let it fall to lower ranks. This came in last night from one of our informers. I’ve had Athena tracking the criminal activity in Mexico since the recall. Over the last few years a group that calls themselves ‘Los Muertos’ has been causing more and more trouble in the country. There have been reports in other locations but the origin of the group stems from Mexico without a doubt. They call themselves revolutionaries but looking into it, their track record doesn’t match up. This was picked up from a security camera in Dorado last week. ” Winston explains and turns to where his computer is across the room. “Athena, play the video please.”

Light flickers to life from the ceiling above and lands on the wall, filling it with a holo projection of a video still frame. As everyone turns to watch, the wall comes to life. The angle shows a back alley littered with boxes and crates. For a few seconds it remains empty and lifeless until a truck comes into view from the far side of the frame. Voices are too far for it to be distinguished as to what they are saying. A handful of men are sent further into the alley, and Hanzo almost misses it when one of them disappears into one of the spaces between the buildings. Another brief amount of time passes with nothing to note until the same man is bodily thrown out of the small space and back into the alley. The lights short out and sound erupts as a man steps into view from the same dark, narrow alleyway the thug had been thrown from. He looks to be average height and well built, clad in a leather jacket and a visor with a mask that cover his eyes and lower part of his face. The weapon in his hands is nothing to blink at, though. It looks hefty and as he puts it to use the sound is muted by the camera’s volume stabilizers. Gunfire explodes from both sides and the guy somehow manages to down almost all of them with only the gun, his hands, and explosives. It’s hard to clearly see what happens, but the whole room goes stock still when one of the thugs openly grabs a young girl from somewhere offscreen, below the coverage of the camera. Hanzo wants to look away as it continues but his eyes stay glued as the violence goes on, and a grenade is launched across the length of the alleyway towards the camera and where the girl stays out of the way. The remaining of the group piles back onto the trucks, and it looks as if the man is going to pursue them as they make a getaway. Even without any expression to be seen, the hesitance in his stance is obvious. At last minute he darts towards where the explosive had landed, throwing himself at inhuman speed, and from there the footage cuts to static. Once the video stops, it starts replaying again, silent this time.

Winston looks over the small group, most of who look like they aren’t sure what to think. 

“Okay… So, someone is in Dorado is trying to stop Los Muertos.” Ana states, her voice flat with disinterest. “That’s not so odd. There are always those who resist criminals. It’s reckless, but it’s not really our business, is it?”

“Yes, but this was no civilian. The world has changed - It may not be as difficult as it used to be to get that kind of firepower, but certainly  _ that _ would be a challenge.” Reinhardt motions to the wall where the masked stranger wields the gun with ease.

“What if he was working for someone else? It could explain the weapons and the intent. Maybe there’s another group trying to keep the peace.” Genji speaks up, his voice sounding less indifferent and more curious than anything else. 

Admittedly, Hanzo can’t fathom the man in the video being a mere civilian. Carrying around a semi-automatic rifle and rockets in your pockets isn’t exactly commonplace, even in the messy state the world is now. Anyone could guess that someone who handles himself like that knows what he’s doing. There’s formal training in how he fought the thugs hand to hand, let alone how he handled the weapons at his disposal. If Genji is right about him working for someone, or some other organization, then it would mean whoever it is must be formidable. There are mercenaries and assassins for hire, but the likelihood of one being hired to attack a group of gang members instead of one target is slim. Hanzo’s fingers tap gently against the table where he leans against it, thinking it through until a scoff sounds from somewhere in the room.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.” McCree speaks up from where he’s stood by Genji’s side with his arms crossed, the source of the scoff found. Everyone’s attention turns to him, but he seems unphased. “That’s Morrison.”

The room goes fully quiet. All eyes are still locked on McCree and for a moment, it seems like it might actually get to him from how he shifts on his feet. It takes some time for the spell on the room to be broken, and of course, when it is, it’s Genji who pipes up first.

“What?” Genji asks incredulously. 

“C’mon! It’s obvious. Look at how that guy was movin’ and tell me you ain’t seen it before.” There’s a hint of defensiveness in McCree’s voice now that someone has asked for an explanation.

Morrison… He must mean Strike Commander Jack Morrison - the face of Overwatch back in it’s glory days. Hanzo can remember seeing his face numerous times on the news both before and after he had left the clan. He had led Overwatch through the Omnic Crisis and come out victorious, but the whole Blackwatch fiasco fell onto his shoulders. There had been multiple interviews and press coverage where the man had tried to convince the world that Overwatch was necessary. The better of two evils, if you will. In the end the controversy destroyed the organization, and many of the personnel with it. Morrison was supposedly included in the list of those lost to the explosion. 

Hanzo looks back up at the screen where the footage replays on loop. The man looks rugged and ruthless. Even with the mask on and the slight pixelated blurriness of the video in places it’s easy to see that the man did not hesitate to pack the gang members full of bullets. As Hanzo was thinking before, there are undeniable marks of training in how he downs them, and if it is, or was Morrison, that would explain it. He would have more than enough experience to not be bothered by the violence he inflicted upon the gangsters. And the girl...

To his side Genji has raised a hand to set on McCree’s arm. His voice is lower when he speaks. “Jesse… That is impossible. Even if he was somehow alive, he would be far too old to do something like this.”

“He was in the soldier enhancement project with Reyes.” McCree counters with a pointed look at Genji that Hanzo doesn’t particularly like, but he doesn’t butt in. He doesn’t have to, since Winston beats him to it.

“Yes… He was.” The glasses on Winston’s face are pushed up as he seems to think on it. “He would have to be into his seventies by now, but the effects of the enhancements have yet to be seen, since their team was the first to ever actually endure the process and live this long. If there was some way that he could have survived then it’s very possible he could still be capable of these kind of feats. That is, only if he  _ did  _ survive.”

“That’s insane!” Ana nearly barks, jolting Hanzo with how close she stands to him as she does. “How could he have!?”

“The limitations of those with the enhancements was tested rigorously. It’s entirely possible that their bodies could withstand the force of explosions like the one that happened here, or the one shown in the video.” Winston speaks carefully as to not stir up the tension that’s started to build in the room.

“Only one sure way to find out.” McCree speaks up again, hopeful. 

Already Winston has returned to his computer and started to tap away at the device, bringing up maps and files that Hanzo can’t quite make out from the distance. “We can see. This surveillance is from a week ago. If he is alive, and still after Los Muertos, then there could be some trail left behind by either him or the gang. I’ll see if we can gather any intel. In the meantime, stay ready and alert. Getting Jack on our side would be a great asset but either way, Talon isn’t resting, and neither will we. ” He turns back to the agents and nods once quickly. “Dismissed.”

Ana is the first to storm out of the room. It’s entirely different from the levelheaded woman Hanzo has come to know, and from how Reinhardt and Fareeha watch her go, it must be an odd reaction for them to see on her as well. As the group starts to disperse Hanzo thinks about going to Genji. After all that with Ana, he’s under the assumption that their training session is over, and spending the rest of the afternoon with Genji would be nice. When he looks to him, however, him and Jesse are huddled close. It’s hard to tell with Genji’s face covered and their voices hushed, but it doesn’t look like their conversation is entirely lighthearted and friendly. It doesn’t sit well just as McCree’s look before didn’t. It’s best to leave it alone, so he decides to leave the two of them to whatever it is that has them arguing and ask Genji about it later.

That night is spent like most others; In his bed with the other, relaxing. Genji’s head rests on Hanzo’s shoulder with a holo pad held between them filling the room with soft background noise. Admittedly, Hanzo doesn’t pay as much attention to it as his brother does, but having it playing is a nice constant stream of sound, and whatever movie or show plays holds the younger dragon’s attention throughout the evening. It’s one of the things that Hanzo has learned about the other since coming back into contact with him. Days are spent on training and meetings, and whenever that wears on him, Genji almost always ends up in his bed quiet for the evening hours while binging shows. It’s not too far off from how he used to spend his time playing games in their youth, yet it’s much more mellow. A small glance over at him always confirms that his expression is lax and at ease. It’s so… domestic. It’s a side of him that Hanzo didn’t know was there, but is as deeply in love with just as much as his other traits. 

It feels almost wrong to interrupt it when everything is so serene and settled. Hanzo’s phone rests in one hand and the other arm is wrapped around the back of Genji’s neck to rest his hand on his opposite shoulder. The cheek against his own arm is warm and cutely squished. Completely worth the slight discomfort of the firm line of metal on his jaw pressed into his arm as well. It’s such a small sacrifice for the way that Genji looks so peaceful where he’s curled close to his side. 

It’s almost unfortunate how curiosity bubbles at his throat and makes it hard to not say anything. The afternoon, the last time he had seen him, when Jesse had been so riled up… It hasn’t left his mind completely ever since. McCree may not be entirely in his good graces, and may never get there, but it’s no secret how close his brother is to the man. Seeing Jesse get genuinely short with Genji was jarring after only ever seeing the two do nothing more than play fight and tease. It must have been triggered by how sure Jesse had been of Morrison still being alive. It raised the questions of exactly what kind of experience the agents had with the former strike commander.

Asking that outright would open too many doors, though. Hanzo knows better than to do so.

Instead he tries to think of a better way to ask what went down. While thinking about it his eyes wander from his phone and land on Genji - whose brown eyes are trained on him from where he’s laying against his side. They blink, so prettily, and Genji speaks up quietly.  _ “You are thinking too loudly.” _

_ “Well, my apologies.”  _ Hanzo scoffs a small, light-hearted laugh at the accusation. It’s not wrong, but he won’t agree with it.  _ “I was thinking on the meeting.” _

_ “Oh, that.”  _ Genji hums introspectively. Sometimes Hanzo wondered how his brother could tell when he was overthinking, but then he remembers how Genji himself looks when he does it. Whatever happened with Jesse is weighing heavy on his brother’s mind as well.

_ “Do you want to talk about it?”  _ The question is extremely open ended and if it were anyone else, he would have specified. However, this is Genji. The extra fluff isn’t needed for Genji to know what he means, and Hanzo only hopes it doesn’t sound too prying. 

A sigh meets Hanzo’s skin with a light, warm breath over his collarbone as Genji looks back down towards the holo pad. The show looks to be some sort of action horror, or something of the likes. It’s on low so the loud sound effects and screams aren’t too jarring.  _ “The fall is a… sensitive subject with Jesse. He was close to the commander of Blackwatch. Like, really close. The guy practically saved Jesse from a life sentence. I know he hopes it’s Morrison. I kind of do, too. But I also fear what that means if it is him.” _

The hushed explanation confirms part of Hanzo’s suspicions. It also explains why McCree had been so quick to be on the defensive about his theory. Being hopeful about someone confirmed dead isn’t the smartest route to take, but then again, what is Hanzo’s opinion worth when Genji is right there practically laying on him?  _ “What do you mean?” _

_ “If it is Jack, then what will happen? Jesse will get hopeful that Reyes is still alive. It won’t be an issue if the two are together in whatever the hell was going on in that video, but if he’s not… It will just hurt him all over again.” _ Genji is still calm as he speaks, but the worry in his voice is sincere, sweet. The jealousy Hanzo had initially felt whenever the man was around has faded some, and now, listening to Genji, he feels a little bit of concern. Whether for Jesse, or for Genji being worried about it. Both, maybe. 

Leaning in, Hanzo gently moves the green hair out of Genji’s face where it lays flat and unstyled. He presses his lips to his temple in a soft kiss.  _ “Nothing has happened yet. No need to fret over it now. If Jesse needs the comfort, I am sure he will come to you.”  _ It’s no secret how close the two are; best friends built off years of being around each other. So, it would be silly to deny it or ignore it. 

Genji looks up at him again. His face is unreadable but his eyes search Hanzo’s face for something. He must find whatever he’s looking for, since the next second he’s pulling himself up. The kiss is gentle, in a deep, passionate kind of way as Genji invades his mouth with all the confidence of someone who has been doing it their whole life. The holo pad is dropped to their laps and forgotten as Genji’s hands come up to frame Hanzo’s face in the way he’s become so fond of since they reunited. A thank you is whispered into the kiss from the soft, pink tinted, scarred lips. It isn’t really specified what for, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters when Genji is climbing into his lap. Hanzo knows he would do anything for him, with or without thanks for it.

The updates throughout the next two weeks are few and far between. Getting intel that may not even exist must take time, let alone trying to track someone who might very well be long dead. Winston explained once, when asked, that Jack hadn’t been called when the recall was sent out. The system has both the commanders down as deceased, so neither would have been contacted about the resurgence of the organization. So far, they have done a good job of keeping things under wraps as well, so there is little chance that Morrison would know by word of mouth or gossip. The whole operation is being kept ‘hush, hush’ from the United Nations and the world. ‘Just until they can prove the means justifies the end’ as Winston had put it. 

Any information on the manhunt is always delivered face to face. Never on comms or through any messages. It’s smart for privacy reasons, since they all know there are ways to get around Athena’s security measures. It would take some heavy work, but it’s still possible. Privacy, and also to keep anything from getting out to anyone other than those on the strike team. If it got out around base there could be a lot of uproar - by means of complaints, objections, and people getting their hopes up. Getting an army riled for nothing wouldn’t be good. 

It takes a full week to get another status of the man’s location. Not from a video feed this time, but from pictures shot by agents under both cover and stealth. It’s nothing too extraordinary from Hanzo’s standpoint. Most of them are slightly blurred by movement, partly out of frame, or not from the right angle. However, the spare few that are crystal clear have the group reacting. When a picture of the man dead centre and almost staring at the camera from a slight distance comes onto the screen, the whole room seems to be pulled forward by an invisible force. It doesn’t look like anything special to Hanzo. The visor and mask are in place, with his forehead pulled down into what looks like a scowl while he speaks to a civilian on a crowded road. He stands out less without the rifle on his person. It almost looks like he belongs with how he blends in. 

What he sees as nothing special, some of the others latch onto. Genji had been mostly quiet where he sat on top of the table next to where Hanzo leaned back against it. The green strip of light and the metal still cover his face, but when the picture comes up Hanzo doesn’t need to see his face. His brother’s entire body leans forward, suddenly much less relaxed. He’s never seen his brother direct his attention at something so instinctively. Later that night the younger dragon is distracted and somewhere else in his mind. Doesn’t even notice Hanzo eyeing him where he sits on the bed. It brings back what he had said about McCree. About getting too hopeful. 

It takes another week and a half - two and a half weeks since the first video had surfaced - for them to be called for another conference. Team training is cut short for it. The showers are quick, and once him, Genji and Jesse are walking towards the room the captain has already gone off ahead without them. Not unusual for Amari. Jesse’s and Genji’s antics aren’t for everyone, even if they are indulged sometimes. Hanzo deals with it, even gets amused by it sometimes. Jesse hasn’t exactly grown on him, but the cowboy seems to have adopted him into the friend group now that Genji spends so much time with him. It’s… kind of nice. No one would catch him dead admitting it though. 

The walk is shorter with the two talking loudly. Once they reach the two heavy doors, Hanzo opens one for the both of them. His mistake, since the pair freezes as soon as the door has swung open the full way. Genji is closest to him, and Hanzo hears the gasp from him - tight. Wet. The tears aren’t visible but they’re audible. Behind his brother Jesse looks paler than a ghost. Before Hanzo can even glance into the room Genji has taken off in a sprint, a whir of green light as he clears the room in seconds. Much faster than Hanzo had any idea he could run. Hanzo steps into the doorway with his hand still propping the door open. If he let go it would definitely hit McCree, since the guy is unmoving where he stands beside him. 

He looks inside just in time to see Genji crash into a man’s side. The man from the video, the pictures. The visor is on with the red-orange light coming from it dully, and he wears the same leather jacket in blue, red and white that he’d worn everytime Hanzo has seen him. Now he can see the short, greyish white hair he has, and the height and build of the man… inhuman, almost. Whatever shit they used in the SEP was certainly effective. The rifle at the man’s back catches Hanzo’s eye and makes an uncertain worry crawl up his guts, but Genji doesn’t hesitate. 

It reminds him of the first time he had seen Genji in the very same room. Only, Genji is almost ridiculous in how he slams into the commander’s side. None of the softness or gentle nature of the reception he had. No, Genji’s attack makes a loud grunt come from the soldier before rough, gravelly laughter erupts from him instead. Both of his brother’s arms come to wrap around the hefty chest and it takes a moment, but Morrison returns it just as tightly. 

“...Fuck.” The shaky curse comes from beside Hanzo were Jesse is still staring at the two as if it’s completely unbelievable. Maybe that’s better than Hanzo though. He has no clue how to feel about the situation. Genji still hasn’t spoken about what he thought of the commander, only how Jesse might react. Now, it’s a little bit of a shock to see his brother staying in the hug even as the two talk - Genji’s voice excited. Hanzo can tell even without knowing the words being said. It’s a strange feeling. Not jealousy but something else entirely. There’s so much he doesn’t know about his brother’s life, having not been there for such a huge chunk of it. It’s bittersweet to see his brother so happy, and somehow still feel bad about it. 

“McCree!” The same gravelly voice calls out from across the room, and the cowboy nearly chokes. “I don’t bite, kid. C’mon.” 

The tone almost sounds playful, in a firm, no nonsense way. Even after seeing Morrison practically used as a teddy bear by his brother not moments before, he still somehow looks too rugged and too severe. When Hanzo glances to McCree he can almost hear the ‘yes sir’ that looks like it wants to leave his mouth. 

When McCree actually starts to move forward Hanzo finally lets the door fall closed and follows behind him. Once close enough, Genji comes over to his older brother’s side and takes a hold of his arm excitedly. It’s enough to make him smile, even with the weird swirl of emotions. 

In front of them is a rather strange interaction, at least for the first few seconds. It’s hard to tell Morrison’s expression with the mask over the bottom half of his face and his eyes covered, but Jesse’s guard is more down than Hanzo has ever seen, and it shows on his face. Jesse is the one who hesitates, and looks almost scared in his uncertainty. Hanzo doesn’t know him well enough to gauge the situation but Genji stays at his side and doesn’t interrupt, so it must be okay. 

“Grew up finally, huh?” Morrison says with a hint of a smile in his voice.

McCree’s mouth moves but words take a second to kickstart, and when they do it sounds as uncertain as he looks. “Yeah.”

Morrison steps forward just enough to flick the rim of Jesse’s hat with gloved fingers. “Never got out of the lame cowboy phase though.”

When the jest registers with Jesse he finally starts to look more like himself. Easily shaken, apparently, but still jokingly defensive about the hat. “You never got outta your mean phase.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” There’s a definitive grin in that voice, and when Jesse comes forward for a hug there’s no surprised grunt or laugh. It’s tight, but even from where he stands he can tell it’s soft. There’s comfort there, and Hanzo has never seen Jesse look so vulnerable as when he lets the hug go on for far longer than average. It’s almost too intimate. It feels like something he shouldn’t be looking in on, so he looks back to Genji at his side instead, then around the room.

Winston is hanging back, while captain Amari is stood where she had presumably been talking to the commander, based on their relative positions. Her face is partly concealed by a hand and Hanzo has no doubt she’s hiding tears. The woman is strong, but anyone whose close enough to her knows she isn’t heartless in the least. Lena has at some point come up beside Genji and him, grinning ear to ear. When the door opens again and Fareeha spots Jesse and Morrison it’s almost the same as what happened with Genji.  _ Almost. _ Because the woman has much more impulse control. The two men part and Morrison pats Jesse’s arm before looking over to the woman who just came in. 

The conversation is lost as Jack says something about how he’s surprised Fareeha isn’t still three feet tall and how beautiful she’s gotten. Hanzo stops paying attention when Jesse walks back up to them and Genji reaches an arm out for Jesse to take hold of his hand. 

“I’m good, ‘m fine. Promise.” He offers Genji a smile that looks pretty damn genuine. He settles in on Genji’s other side.

“He’s actually here.” Genji states, still sounding psyched and in disbelief. Lena giggles at the tone, and Jesse just nods as they watch him talking with the two women. “He’s so  _ old. _ ” 

This time both Jesse and Lena break into laughter, and Hanzo can’t keep himself from smiling for long. It’s become far more strange for him now that he’s in the room with everyone else who has some kind of history with the strike commander. The Morrison in the room with them looks different from the one who he had seen so many times on television and in news papers in Hanamura. The golden poster boy for the fight against the omnics is now greying and looks almost grungy in the outfit he wears, with the years shown clearly on it and what looks to be a lot of wear and tear. Whatever has happened since the fall, Hanzo isn’t sure he wants to know. 

“Hey, where’s Angie?” Morrison looks first to Winston for the question, but in a second he looks to Genji instead.

Genji goes quiet from where he was joking with Lena and brings his attention to the commander in a way that has Hanzo fascinated. He’s seen it with Amari, but never as quickly or as pointedly as how he just answered Morrison. “Probably working the medbay.” Once more, Hanzo can almost imagine the ‘sir’ that could be tagged on the end of the answer.

“Right. I’ll go surprise her after, see if she ends up needing to use her own defibrillators.” Genji laughs, and for a moment Morrison keeps his attention there. It’s almost physical how Hanzo can feel it when the attention is switched over to himself. The expression on the man’s face becomes even more unreadable, and beside him he notes the second Genji stops laughing. The boots are heavy and shake dust and dirt onto the floor with each step as the man comes forward until there’s less than a foot between him and the commander. 

As much as it feels like he should, Hanzo doesn’t lower his eyes. Onyx gazes into glowing red; not trying to pin exactly where the commander’s eyes would be, merely settled there. Just keeping steady. If there’s one thing Hanzo’s learned since leaving the clan, it’s to not back down to emotionally aimed tactics like this. He can feel the judgement being made as he’s assessed. 

“Hanzo, right?” Unlike Jesse, Morrison doesn’t completely butcher the pronunciation. It sounds strange in the commander’s voice but it is still correct. If he really looked for it, he might be able to find the accusation hidden under the indifference of it. 

“Yes,” Hanzo makes sure it doesn’t show how he hesitates, instead framing the moment of silence as if on purpose. “Sir.”

In the quiet that comes after, Hanzo feels Genji’s hands lightly squeeze his arm. It probably wouldn’t be possible to misread the respectful title as mocking yet the anxiety bubbles as the seconds pass. Morrison tilts his jaw in a way that looks like interest, and a gloved hand is offered between them. Only when Hanzo takes it does he speak again. “Heard lots about you.” The hand that grasps his own is almost deadly under the thick leather. Luckily Hanzo isn’t entirely inexperienced in this kind of thing. He makes sure his grip is just as firm and his eyes never falter, even when the words sound so much like a threat. If he had thought Jack Morrison, leader of Overwatch, wouldn’t know exactly who he is, where he comes from, and what he’s done - he’d have to be an idiot. He knows the man knows, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to let himself be intimidated about it. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” Hanzo states politely. 

The scoff of a laugh that comes from Morrison is less polite. “We’ll see. Good you’re on the team though. I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you’ve got.” The words are followed by an aggressive pat to his arm that is so incredibly unlike the one Jesse had gotten, and somehow, beside him Genji sounds like he’s trying to hold back giggles. 

Winston ends up insisting the Morrison rest for the night after the trip to the base, so the meeting doesn’t go any further than reunions. It’s no surprise; Having someone who was dead the night before suddenly alive again can make it impossible to properly focus on something as important as world crime organizations and their non-existent recent activity.  

Once everyone disperses Hanzo sees them off. Genji and McCree leave together, which is more than understandable. Jesse still looks shaken to high hell, and it would be stupid of him to try and stop Genji from going with him to calm down. Seeing what had happened, Hanzo knows it might take more than just a few minutes and a cold glass of water. So Hanzo parts with them with Lena at his side, and both of them head to the lounge to spend the evening - a movie playing on the holo screen and games played between them.    
  


In the morning Genji finds him at breakfast, and they sit with Jesse through the meal. The day is normal up until the next meeting. Morrison is there, with his hair clean and his leather attire switched out for a tight black tshirt and fatigues. The mask stays in place, and the visor is attached as if unable to be removed. Everything that Overwatch has gathered in the last months is reviewed by the former commander, the files swiped through on his holo pad with the rest of them sit around the table and talk amongst themselves. When the pad is handed back to Winston, he smiles and thanks him. It only takes a few wrong words for the meeting to come to a halt.

“I had a feeling Los Muertos had operations elsewhere.” Jack starts, gloveless, scarred fingers tapping over the top of the table in a way that looks like he’s done it a thousand time before; comfortable in how he sits there. “I was tracking them but traveling outside of Mexico to trace down other bases of operations was… complicated.”

It’s a light enough statement that Winston makes, but the assumptions are clear right off the bat. “Now that you’re here it will be easy to set you up with what you need. It’s not quite clear whether Talon has anything to do with it but with you at the head of things it shouldn’t take long to-”

“Pardon?” Jack interrupts sharply. He turns to look at Winston with another unreadable expression on his face.

Winston stumbles for an answer. “Well… I thought with your expertise and…”

“Think you misunderstood. I’m here, but I’m not strike commander anymore. As far as everyone else knows, Jack Morrison died when this place fell. I’m nothing more than a soldier.” His voice is firm and unyielding, and the way the room tenses is almost too uncomfortable to bear. Hanzo doesn’t miss the way Jesse looks away at the mention of the fall, nor how Genji starts to fidget his hands beneath the table.

“Right. No, that’s fine. Any help is appreciated.” WInston carefully calms the atmosphere with a light tone and a smile, even if everything’s a little less casual for the rest of the meeting. 

Nothing is decided on in the case of course of action. It’s hard to pin down exactly whose working with who without knowing the inner workings of Talon or any of the other constantly growing gangs. Messing with things too early could get them outed to the world, or worse - killed. Gaining access to information could be risky, yet as Jack so helpfully pointed out, the longer they took, the more they risked being found without making any progress in proving themselves… or, more correctly, proving Overwatch’s usefulness. 

It’s odd to have the commander back around the base, especially since he refuses to go by commander at all. It’s strictly Jack, or Soldier: 76. Since his refusal has been made clear, there was no formal re-introduction. No speech or even any casual remarks that the previous commander has rejoined their ranks. Those who are new recruits don’t notice, and those who know don’t mention it due to respect for Jack. The man asks for a room in the dorms like the rest of the strike team, and he hangs around the lounges like the rest of them. Ana and him spend more time together than any of them, with coffee in the morning at the little kitchen near the lounge, and sitting together at meals. Hanzo wouldn’t notice if not for how often he himself spends time with the captain now. The first time seeing Jack without his mask was the day after his arrival. Breakfast, with Genji to one side and Ana on his other. Jack sat beside the captain and as he pulled the mask off there was a hiss of sound, not unlike when Genji presses the latches on his own mask. Everyone made sure not to stare, but the sight underneath wasn’t close to pretty. The flesh underneath is scarred worse than Genji’s, worse than anything Hanzo has ever seen. The burns make the skin patchy and uneven, and a thick slash crosses Jack’s face below the mask and visor, even up into his forehead. Entirely across his face. No one starred, but instantly Ana started to fuss over it and made Jack’s scarred lips pull into a smile and a laugh. Beside Hanzo, he could practically feel Genji beaming underneath the levels of metal at the two.

It’s late in the evening one night when Genji brings something up in conversation. The younger dragon is sprawled out across his bed. He wears the silly pachimari shorts that Hanzo had first seen him in, and one of Hanzo’s own shirts that hangs a little loosely off of his shoulders. When he speaks up, Hanzo looks over from where he’s sat at the desk checking his emails. 

_ “So, what do you think of him?” _ Genji asks lightly, without even looking up from where he plays games on his holo pad. 

_ “Who?” _ Hanzo answers the question with another question. It only earns him a scoff and a roll of Genji’s eyes.

_ “You know who. Jack.” _ He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is. It probably is.

_ “I don’t know,” _ He answers properly this time, and truthfully. Even after almost a week of having the man on base he still hasn’t formed much of an opinion on him. He’s uptight, yet there are glimpses where he’s relaxed and laid back. He’s strict, yet he can be gentle to the group he sticks with. The first time meeting him comes back to mind. _ “I have only spoken to him once, and it felt like the closest I will ever come to being told I will die a painful death if I do you wrong.” _

The words make Genji explode in laughter and Hanzo gets the pleasure of seeing him wrap both arms around his middle, trying to not curl up on himself in bed. Full body laughter. As if he can’t help how the happiness erupts from him. It’s ridiculous for how old he is, but Hanzo can’t hold those thoughts for long. Something about how his brother can so easily let go, and let himself experience things so fully and woly still strikes him each time he gets to witness it… Like they’re still back home, lounging on the futon in Hanzo’s room and throwing empty, teasing insults and jokes back and forth. 

_ “Are you scared of him?”  _ Genji finally manages to speak as his laughter dies down to small, breathless chuckles. The glint of amusement still holds steady in his eyes.

Now it’s Hanzo turn to roll his eyes, and he makes sure to over exaggerate the action for Genji to clearly see it.  _ “No, you brat. Why would I be?”  _

_ “Because he might pull a shotgun on you. That is how Americans do it, you know.”  _ He’s still all giggles. Everything always at ease, coming easily to his glowing baby brother. It’s a comforting thought.

_ “You watch too many movies.”  _ He scolds without any meaning behind it.  _ “It does not matter. I will never hurt you, so he need not worry.” _

The words make Genji’s face go bare before he sits up, crossing his legs and messing up the blankets.  _ “He was kind of my commander while I was in Blackwatch. He was a step above Reyes in command.”  _

The explanation isn’t what he thought he would get, but it isn’t exactly unwelcome. The way the words swept the expression from Genji’s face is slightly concerning. It seems like it was in result of his own thoughts and not anything that had been said, though. At least Hanzo can hope. The little bit of doubt about it gnaws distractingly at his stomach as he nods. 

_ “I hated him.” _ Genji surprises him out of the blue with the blank statement. No emotion behind it, merely a fact stated out in the open. It’s hard to imagine Genji hating  _ anyone, _ let alone the commander that he had so eagerly ran to just a week prior. Whatever reaction is on Hanzo’s face is enough for Genji to continue speaking after the pause.  _ “I hated a lot of people, though. Do not look so surprised.” _

_ “That is very hard to believe, otōto.” _

Slender shoulders shrug up and further move the fabric until the neckline falls down one of his shoulders carelessly. It’s an incredibly good look on him, if only he didn’t have the far away look in his eyes as they slide down to gaze at the bed. Without any verbal answer, Hanzo knows that the conversation is over - or at least, it’s one that Genji isn’t ready to delve further into. Pushing his chair away from the desk as he stands up, he walks over to the bed and sits down on the edge. Close enough so he can hold one of Genji’s cheeks in his hand and run fingers over the ridges of the scars there. 

_ “It is late. There is always tomorrow.”  _

No comment is made as to whether the conversation will ever actually continue. The blankets are pulled back and Genji fits into his arms, spooning the lithe man with his back pressed to Hanzo’s chest and an arm hugged tightly. Smooth fingers fill in the spaces between his own. A low mumble tells Athena to kill the lights, and the remaining green light dims until it’s hardly visible under the multiple blankets that cover them. Genji’s sounds and breathing get quieter and even out in time, but it takes longer for Hanzo, thoughts clouded with the look that had come over his lover’s face when trying to talk about the past.

Another misconception about being a part of Overwatch was that it would be all action, all the time. Watching the omnic crisis on the news had made it seem like things were a never-ending stream of missions and battles. All blood and tragedy. Television definitely glorified the rate at which such things happen. Being an agent isn’t necessarily boring or easy with how much constant mission training goes on, or how strict the schedules are. One on one training, team sessions, work out regimens, weekly meetings, and frequent medical evaluations take up most waking hours. There’s enough time between to for quality time with Genji, and to his surprise, Genji’s friends as well. More often than not, the people who Hanzo had once considered to be Genji’s friends - strangers - now stop in the halls to talk to him, and go out of their way to make room for him when they run into each other in the common rooms or cafeteria. Saying that it’s been easy would be a huge lie, but… Maybe it isn’t as hard as he had thought it would be when he first walked into the daunting doors of the base. That feels like it was so long ago. 

Over the next month Talon stays quiet. Unnervingly so. It’s confirmed that Ogundimu has joined their enemies ranks, now going by the codename ‘Doomfist’. It’s technically a good thing that there have been no reports of any attacks or sightings from Talon, but it doesn’t sit well with any of them. The recent meetings have all been about preemptive strategies for in case the silence is meant to lull them so the organization can hit will defenses are low. Emergency plans, evacuation procedures for civilians in hot zones for attacks, specifically United Nations headquarters and other government or military bases that are likely to put up a fight against Talon - all of them are committed to the memory of everyone in the strike team. 

The dry spell continues up until the tech team on Overwatch’s side is able to do some digging and get past the heavy security on Talon’s network at their base. Since the get-go there have been attempts to get at intel and information in ways other than groundwork or buying it from rats. The files retrieved aren’t anything earth-shattering. Most are schedules for shipments, lists of employees, nothing to say exactly what the big picture is. It’s just enough to point the way to work out a plan to find out. The news of a new covert ops mission is announced, and a small team is assigned to handle it. The plan is to intercept one of the scheduled shipments as quietly as possible and get information out of either the contents, or the ones who are doing the delivery work. In late January a team of three - Captain Amari, Morrison, and Hana Song - set off on the mission after a week or so of training beforehand. The schedules scored from the files are used to time the attack perfectly, or as perfectly as possible. It’s deemed as a low-risk and facile mission. 

When the team returns the next morning, it’s clear everything didn’t go quite as perfect as everyone had hoped. No one is killed, thankfully, but Hana lands in the medbay with a few shattered bones, and Captain Amari and Morrison are worse for wear. The reports of the mission show that it went well up until the end, when Talon got word of the interruption. Everything went to plan; stay under the radar until the targets show with the payload, then attack quick and dirty. Either someone was missed, or wrongly assumed dead. Someone there had contacted other Talon workers and called for back-up. It left the team outnumbered, and they had to fall back. The shipment was partially damaged, but not enough to make much of a difference. It wasn’t a complete waste, but both the former commander and the captain had taken it as if it were a personal failure.

  
  


“They’re working together. This kind of thing isn’t uncommon. I’m not sure why they would be working together, but there’s got to be some reason behind it. Los Muertos make it hard to pin down an actual goal, and we aren’t any closer to knowing what Talon wants.”

“We’ll just have to be careful from here on out.”

“More than careful. Now that they know that we have some kind of information on them, they’ll come looking. This hacker in Los Muertos isn’t anything to scoff at, either. If you want back in on the network you’ll have to be damn invisible. As for the shipments. If you want on that still,  without any backlash, we’ll have to be way more discrete. No trace left behind. The only real advantage we have now is that they may not know who we were working for, and they might think they ran us off.”

“I’ll have our tech team work on fortifying Athena’s security measures. Until then...”

The conversation seems to have been going on forever, when in reality it has to have only been two hours or so. Sitting at the long, mostly empty table, it’s become difficult to listen to the two men go back and forth with each other. The return of the team had put a huge damper on the initial plans they had. Now it seems the options are limited. Either try again, or kill the idea completely - wait for something new to come up and go from there. No one seems very happy about the prospect of just sitting and waiting. The only new information that the failed attempt had gathered is that Talon and Los Muertos are working with one another. The weapons shipment had been for the gang, which finally explained the heavy weaponry that had been seen in the footage of Morrison knocking the members of Los Muertos on their asses. 

Morrison and Winston have shared everything they both know about both the gang and the terrorist organization, and now it’s down to coming up with ways to actually do something about it without it going as bad as the first time. In the few days since the mission it’s been too quiet on the Talon front, even as Los Muertos continues their reign of terror on Mexico. There have been no signs that Talon knows that it was Overwatch who tried to sabotage the shipment. Morrison was after Los Muertos, so it’s a possibility that they might just think the opposition found out about the alliance. After all, even without a motive the alliance makes sense; Los Muertos gives henchmen, territory, new fresh blood, and in return they get weapons and power. A lucrative deal. 

What Hanzo can’t understand about it is why they’re taking so long to make up a new plan. It’s the second day they’ve been at it, and already it’s way past when dinner would have been served. Jack and Winston have been at it forever, while the rest of them have taken up lazing around to listen to the two. Hanzo and Genji are sat together with Jesse, like they are most of the time at these meetings. Genji has his hand in Hanzo’s under the table to play with as opposed to fidgeting. Ana is sat beside Jack and appears to be listening, but who really knows. She doesn’t show it but the bandages over her left ear and the way her eyes sit on lips as people speak makes it hard to believe that she’s totally recovered from the hits the team took. Angela and Lena are sat a few seats down from the rest of them. Last Hanzo had overheard they had been talking quietly about how Lena’s arm is recovering. 

“Waiting isn’t an option.” Jack taps his gloved fingers over the surface of the table. “If we wait for an update, it could be weeks, even months. They likely  don’t have enough about what happened to pin any of it on us, let alone anyone else. Right now is the only time we have to try this again. Wait any longer and they’ll have found something to link it to us. That stunt in Numbani in the museum was hardly covered up well, and your little attack on Ogundimu won’t stay quiet forever. If someone really wanted to, they’d find out the truth. We only have a small window of time before they either get into our systems, or attack head on. Another attack on shipments won’t be a surprise, but it’s the only way to keep this going. We know they’re with Los Muertos now. We can still get more.”

Winston nods. His attention is down on the holopad in front of him but it doesn’t distract him from the conversation at all. “No one’s disagreeing with you. Risking getting caught like that again would be reckless, but it might be our only option. If we can find out what they’re up to some other way then that would be ideal. Ideal, but not timely. Athena can keep our network secure whether or not they know we got into theirs. I’m not worried about that. What we need to worry about is what the alliance means and how it will impact fighting against them both. All of these look like weapons deals, but if we can find out exactly what they’re being used for then we could find out what their end goal is. We can hit the next one here - a week from now at King’s Row. The place is deserted since Talon’s last attack so the threat of civilians seeing, or getting involved is nonexistent. It’s our safest bet.“

“There will be heavy security this time around. Last time there were guards, this time there will be more, maybe Talon agents. We will have to take the shipment by force unless we want to just destroy it on site. If we do destroy it we might lose whatever intel we could get,” Jack grunts in distaste. “We have to be prepared. If this doesn’t work this time around, it will be a waste of time. I propose a split tactic. If our attention is divided between the shipment and the agents then we might give ourselves a better chance.”

“Only destroy it if absolutely necessary. If it ends up being too dangerous then you can blow it to pieces. Less weapons for them, the better. However, first priority will be getting any and all information you can. Captain Amari, have you been cleared for missions?”

Ana looks ready to confirm before Angela speaks up for the first time in the entirety of the meeting. “I would not recommend it. There is no permanent damage, and it will heal quickly, but balance and auditory perception will continue to be an issue for some time after healing.”

The older woman looks annoyed by it, and Winston doesn’t look entirely pleased by it either. There are surely others who would work to lead the team, but no one else who sits among the small ranks of the strike team. Hanzo knows Winston can, and has led such things before. That doesn’t mean he prefers it.

“I can do it.” Morrison states matter of factly. All eyes land on the man. 

The past month have been filled with nothing but Jack insisting that he’s ‘just a soldier’ like the rest of them. All training is done with Jack among the rest of them, taking orders from Amari and keeping ranks. At first it was easy to see how strange it is for the younger agents who had the man as their top commander for their formative years at Overwatch. Seeing the man go from highest rank in the organization to being at the same level as everyone else has been an adjustment for them for sure. Even with the reminders, more often than not someone will accidentally refer to him as commander or sir. Old habits, and old titles, die hard. Hearing Jack volunteer to be put back on his pedestal as a captain or commander is out of character compared to his usual refusal.

From where she sits beside Jack, Ana turns her head to him sharply. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Jack says firmly. His hands reach up and both the mask and the visor are pulled off. “With all due respect, I know most of the team just as well as you, Captain. I was there the first time, I know what to expect. I have the experience and more training than anyone outside the strike team. I’ll do it if it means a higher chance of this not going up in flames.”

The air in the room could have been cut with a knife as the mask and visor are dropped to the surface of the table with a soft clink. Hanzo has yet to see the damage under the visor, and based on the reactions from everyone else, no one else has seen it either. A few of them are staring, Hanzo included. The commander’s eyes that were once brilliant blue now have a cover of milky, cloudy white over them. They don’t focus in one specific spot. Rather, they stare dead ahead without any specific target. The gaze is unseeing where it’s cast across the table. A long, gnarly scar crosses them both, and across the bridge of his nose in between. Light wrinkles on his face and bags under his eyes show the age that Jack’s muscular body doesn’t.

No one argues any further after the explanation. It’s something that Hanzo has grown to notice - not many people willingly argue with the man, even with his insistence to treat him like any other agent. Maybe it’s the ghost of the man’s former title, or just the way that he talks. Every word from him seems to be forged out of experience and age. 

So, Winston agrees, and the plan is flushed out. Jesse, Angela, Reinhardt, Genji and Hanzo are chosen for the new mission. Ana’s daughter, Fareeha, and a woman who was recruited from the Russian Defense Forces are set as back-up in case of any issues like the former attempt had. A rough idea of an action plan is set before it’s deemed that it can be polished and completed once everyone’s had a good night’s sleep. Finally, after the three hour meeting, everyone is dismissed.

* * *

 

Even after all this time, sometimes it’s hard to read Hanzo’s facial expressions. From where Genji is sat he can see the profile of his brother’s face where he sits with a holopad in his lap. It’s open to some document, probably a book. The text comes forwards out of the blue screen and each time his brother moves his hand it gently scrolls to the side to the next page. It could almost be seen as peaceful if not for how the bit of tenseness in Hanzo’s shoulders is noticeable.

“What do you think about the mission?’ Genji finally cuts through the semi-quietness of the lounge with the hopefully casual question.

Hanzo’s gaze comes up from the pad to rest on Genji’s face instead. His mask is set on the coffee table in front of the couch, and Genji can tell the older man is checking over his features for some hidden meaning that isn’t held in the question. “I think it will be a good chance to gain a step up on Talon.” The answer sounds so fake-y that Genji almost wants to laugh at it, but he knows that Hanzo would never tell him the full extent of his thoughts out in the open here.

“Okay,” Genji crawls across the couch to sit closer and lessen the space between them. “What do you think of Morrison being head of the team?”

This time Hanzo’s lip raises in a telltale sign of annoyance, or distaste. “I think that man is either a hypocrite, or needs to make up his mind.” 

That makes Genji laugh a little. There are only a few people in the room other than them. Fareeha and Angela followed them into the room after the meeting had come to a close, and after they had all gotten snacks and drinks from the kitchenette, the two women had sat away from them. Needless to say, none of the attention is on them, so Genji doesn’t hesitate to place a hand on Hanzo’s thigh and trace idle shapes there. To his surprise, Hanzo doesn’t stop him. 

“Why do you ask? Do you still think I fear him?” Hanzo quips as he moves the pad from his lap and onto the coffee table. 

“No,” Genji shakes his head lightly. “I am merely curious how well you will take orders from a man like him.”

That has one of Hanzo’s handsome, dark brows spiking up quizzically. “A man ‘like him’? What is he like, Genji?”

“Oh… You know, bossy, stubborn, hot-headed.” It’s hard not to break into giggles halfway through the explanation. “Like you.”

“Like me? Is that how it is?” For a moment there’s no indication as to whether Hanzo is actually annoyed, or just faking it, until one of the throw pillows on the couch is grabbed and lobbed into his shoulder. Of course, it does absolutely nothing to the armor coated appendage, but it does make Genji’s jaw drop. Admittedly, the offended look is mostly just to hide the smile that wants to break out across his face. Every time Hanzo does something like this, something unexpected, or fun, or downright juvenile, it makes his stomach warm up with a feeling that comes close to both nostalgia and excitement at something new. Seeing his brother at ease enough to fool around like this… it’s more than Genji could have ever asked for. Probably more than he deserved.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oof this took so long to get out, im so sorry. rough patch. HOPEFULLY the next chapter will be out way quicker than this one was. i'm not giving up on this at all yet. i still have a plan for it, it will be finished  
> this chapter has  
> \- LOTS of canon typical violence, in detail  
> \- reaper and widowmaker briefly  
> \- lots of panicky moments, including a panic attack. general mental illness all over for everyone rip

Everything goes to plan; It’s an early rise, and Genji hangs off of Hanzo’s arm as if waking up an hour earlier than usual is enough to wear him down, physically dragging him down. That’s at least how it seems with his little brother holding his arm, shuffling his feet as they walk towards the loading bay. The helicopter, or chopper, as he had found out McCree likes to call them, is waiting along with the former commander and captain. They were the first to meet up with the two, the rest trickling in afterwards. Take off is at exactly 0500. They’re airlifted to the nearest and most secure airport, then flown in to London. Accommodations are set up - two rooms to share - for the night. It gives them enough time to both rest and go over the plans once more before they are set into motion.

It’s been some time that Hanzo has been training with them all, and while some of the training sessions can get particularly intense, none of it could stand to how tense and electric the air seems to be the evening before the shipment is supposed to arrive. An empty apartment in King’s Row is where they take place for the hours before the mission, and in the small room it’s hard to ignore. Morrison and Mercy (he’s still getting used to the code name thing) are the only two who seem completely calm. The two blondes sit with one another, both looking over their respective equipment for any issues. The rest of the team are all tense energy and barely contained fidgeting. It’s little things. McCree’s leg bounces as he has his last smoke of the evening and Genji can’t seem to even attempt to sit down for too long. Hanzo even finds himself slightly restless as the minutes countdown further. 

“Alright. Positions.” Morrison gives the go ahead after all the communicators have been tested. His signal, two fingers in the shape of a gun, pointing in the right directions, seems unnecessary. They all have it memorized, down to the last detail. 

They head off in different directions in the dark. Hanzo quickly finds his place on the roof of the building. Directly overhead the junction point where things are set to go down. There’s enough cover from the ventilation shafts that come up through the roofs that he knows he won’t be seen as he pulls an arrow for his quiver. His fingers brush over the thin, lightweight metal of the fletching as he nocks it. His eyes scan the scene below. The streets are dimly lit by the remaining street lamps causing the wet cobblestone glowing orange in the night. Everything is quiet aside from distant, far off traffic and city life. For a count of about ten minutes, it stays that way. 

The engine of the carrier vehicle fills the silent air, cutting through the otherwise quiet neighborhood. It comes into view quickly. The garage door opens and the vehicle parks right in front. Hanzo’s eyes scan the perimeter of the space, as well as the buildings that surround it. All looks well, but more than once they were warned of snipers, particularly a high skilled markswoman who had been the undoing of the omnic spiritual leader, Mondatta. The assassination was a cold one. Even now Hanzo could remember the blow it had been to many of the omnic freedom fighters. He gives the area another careful once over.

The driver of the vehicle steps out and disappears into the garage at an angle that Hanzo can no longer trail him from. Over his comm he hears Jack’s whispered  _ ‘target has retreated into building _ ’ and can see across the way where Genji moves - merely a slight streak of color in the low light, then gone again in less than half of a second to another cover. Anyone who didn’t know exactly where to look would have missed it. 

It’s in the seconds that come after the movement that Hanzo’s eyes catch the soft wisp of black matter. It gently moves close to the bottom of the nearest building, close to the objective. Hanzo’s lips barely part to report the sighting before the entire street goes dark and something wizzes past his ear nearly faster than he can move to the side. Nearly. His aim switches to the direction it had come from, somewhere a top the building opposite, the one standing over the garage. It’s difficult to make out in the darkness, but a figure lurks there. If not for the overall look of it, Hanzo would have assumed it too thin to be any human. Tall, dark, and unhealthily slim, the woman takes off. There’s a crackle in Hanzo’s ear before a small track of green light appears where she had been seconds earlier, following her movement. It’s too fast for Hanzo to keep track of.

Gunfire breaks out from below and the laugh that follows it is deep and dark. His eyes dart to  below, where the wisp of smoke he had previously seen forms into a man of broad shoulders and a billowing cloak. He blends into the darkness nearly seamlessly as he moves through the men that have flooded into the space. Flashes of light outline the mass as Jack appears from the point where he was hidden. The pulse rifle hits the ghoulish figure and it laughs again in an echoing bellow that raises the hair on Hanzo’s arms. It’s inhuman. Somehow, the sound feels cold as ice even from so far away. Air pushes past Hanzo’s ear along with the arrow that he lets loose. It finds its target, yet it cuts right through as the street fills with smoke once more, surrounding the arrow where it darts into the cobblestone. Hanzo swears under his breath, following the movement as best as he can. The sound of a struggle elsewhere lays under the warfare from below when it lulls enough between shots. His heartbeat pounds fast in his ears and he has to even his breathing, slow and calculated while watching to see where the man will reappear. 

He, however, doesn’t. The smoke disappears in the throw of people. Again, Hanzo curses under his breath. His feet move quickly to a new cover, getting a new angle on the scene as well as securing his position in case the widow… No. Genji has it covered. In the street, Jack has advanced on the objective, facing heavy fire from the Talon henchmen. Having both Widowmaker and what Hanzo knows to be the Reaper at the site is concerning, but there are more important things to deal with. The ranks are at least at a 1 to 5 ratio and the commander and medic are quickly becoming overpowered by the sheer number of those around them. Two of the men are struck down with three quickly loosed arrows, each hitting it’s mark and making the victims fall lifeless. Morrison’s spray of fire takes care of those closest, but it seems for each that’s taken down, another appears from elsewhere. Even with Mercy where she’s stood in close range, pistol held at the ready, it’s clear that the damage isn’t enough. A tank - in order to push through the mass, that’s what they needed. No one had seen things going in this way. Everything erupts in sound and all three, including Hanzo, take fire at the surrounding men. It’s mayhem, and soon enough the commander’s visor glows red, pulse rifle firing wildly at targets. 

When the firing ceases, there’s a dust that settles back over the road. There wasn’t meant to be any body count to the mission, yet based on the looks of the scene below, it’s quite high. The two blondes are taking inventory of themselves down below. From where he’s standing he can see the way the commander struggles to stay completely upright. His hand clutches at his torso, but he doesn’t fall. Perks of super soldier serum, most likely. The distant fighting that he had heard comes to his attention now that the gunfire isn’t deafening, and he listens to the sharp, familiar slash of sword. Before it comes to a stop. His head turns to the direction it had come from fast enough he should fear whiplash from it. 

Sound crackles through the comm in his ear. It’s indistinguishable and staticky, and when he reaches a hand up to touch the device in his right ear, it’s chipped and the plastic casing is… wet. Looking at his hand, blood slides between his fingers. He moves and rearranges the device until it works better, and right after more static, it comes through with the commander’s voice informing that Angela is with him, and asking for confirmation from each of them. As quietly as possible he gives it, as does Genji after him. Relief runs through him and air finally rushes into his lungs properly at the sound of his brother’s voice. He hadn’t noticed that it had stopped until it filled his aching lungs. The deep breath is let out slow, but the voices on the comms don’t stop. Genji reports that Widowmaker fled, and Jack acknowledges, giving directions for everyone to stay under cover and in position. McCree hasn’t indicated his status - or said anything at all. Hanzo looks over his shoulder around the area below. He hadn’t seen him during the short fansfare of gunfire with Mercy and the commander, nor had he seen him flee his position where he was supposed to be around the side of the building. It’s darker now with most of the power gone from the streetlamps. The back alley looks empty, but it’s entirely possible the cowboy could be held up somewhere just like he is. 

He returns to how he was crouched before, not wanting to make any big assumptions about whether the sniper is really gone or still lingering. They’re far too split up; the defense seems to have worked yet now they’re all scattered and vulnerable to attack. It’s an awful, selfish thought that runs through his head, but at the very least he knows for sure that he and Genji can work effectively on their own if need be.

While he’s been thinking it over, the interference comes back through the comms again. At first he thinks maybe it’s his acting up again, but this time there’s a definitive pattern of breathing with it, and McCree’s voice sounds worse for wear when it comes through. 

“Jack,” The thick crackle in his ear makes Hanzo grimace. It seems odd that McCree has ditched the formal titles and used the commander’s first name. He can’t imagine that’s something that will go unnoticed and without reprimand later on. 

“Status, McCree.” Morrison’s voice is steely and set. It sounds undisturbed by the concerning way Jesse is reporting in or his own injuries. 

There’s about ten long seconds before the glitching comes back. “Jack! It’s him- ...dential district. Please, it’s--” Jesse’s device must have taken serious damage. Far worse than his own. The message is cut off and more static is popping oddly over the line. Whatever happened is making Hanzo’s gut clench uncomfortably. 

“Come in again. Repeat that last.” Jack still doesn’t sound shaken. His gravelly voice sounds almost demanding. Hanzo thinks back to seeing him the first time, when those blue eyes had looked at him in such an unforgiving, hardened way. 

It doesn’t take long for Jesse to respond; it’s almost immediate. It’s also way less composed than it had been even before. The uncouth accent is more panicked than he’s ever heard before, and too thick. If he didn’t know better he would say the man is crying. “It’s  _ him, _ Jack! It’s Reyes! Reaper is-” The noise cuts off again and the line goes deadly silent; Jack doesn’t answer, the other’s probably don’t dare to. Hanzo doesn’t dare to. Not after that. He merely looks to where Jack and Angela are below, now further to the side against the stone wall. 

“Jesse! Jesse, come in! Come ON!” It took a little over a minute of silence from their commander for Genji’s voice to come in clear as day and demanding. There’s no answer anymore from McCree, but his brother’s yelling breaks through the trace the silence had instilled. Hanzo stirs and takes another look around his surroundings before reaching up to his ear to turn on the microphone. 

_ “Genji, where are you?”  _ Hanzo asks with his voice as steady as he can make it, not thinking before speaking Japanese instead of English. He may not have the best relationship with the man, but even he was unnerved by McCree’s transmission. Not to mention how the contents of it had so thoroughly fucked things up. 

When Genji replies it’s too shaky for his liking. “Thirty fourth and… and…”

_ “Sparrow,”  _ He doesn’t care that the line isn’t private. He lowers his voice further, softer for Genji.  _ “Where are you? I will come to you.” _

“No! Maintain position, all agents. They won’t give up that easy, it’s too risky.” Morrison barks the instructions. There’s none of the set in stone sturdiness that had been there the rest of the mission. It’s not exactly panicked, but it’s not secure. The control that had been with him is all but gone now. Staying in position made them sitting ducks. Their training would say to follow orders first, and then follow proper protocol. Hanzo knows this. However, it’s against everything Hanzo had been taught as a child, growing up a Shimada, not a soldier, and it makes him itch with discomfort to think that Genji might be exposed wherever he is. Fuck it, if he gets punished then he’ll take it. 

“Genji.” He says firmly, ignoring the outburst it causes from Morrison.

“Thirty fourth and Manning. Upper level.” Genji completely cuts off the older man’s voice over the line with his reply. Hanzo can’t help the sigh that leaves him.    
  


The temptation to turn off the communicator altogether is ignored in favor of not getting in even more trouble. The insistent chatter is annoying while Hanzo leaves his spot behind the cover on the roof to make his way to Genji. Everything is eerily quiet when just minutes before it had been an explosion of gunfire between the two sides. The road below is avoided completely, both because he’d become the easiest target for Widowmaker, and because of the rubble that’s made the inner workings of the neighborhood even messier than when they arrived. Instead he stays within the buildings. The apartments are a juxtaposition to the ruins outside with their luxurious furnishings and glittering chandeliers. He almost feels bad while breaking windows to be able to jump from building to building. Almost being the key word. Every so often he takes peeks out windows and destroyed parts of foundation to read the signs down below. Each intersection brings him closer to the address Genji had given him, until he reaches the one that reads ‘34th’ and ‘Manning’. His eyes scan over the buildings on the other side of the street. There’s no sign of him through any of the windows, but that’s perfect. That means no one else can see him either.    
  


The last of the upper level in the building is searched and cleared before he quickly and silently traverses the stairs to the main level. It’s in much better condition than the ones he had to go through to get there; it’s dusty and unkept from misuse but intact. Their fight hadn’t been taken far enough out to ruin it. Outside the street is still bathed in yellow light from the lamps above. Hanzo curses under his breath with his back against the wall. It’d be so much more convenient if these lights were also out for him to sneak across without detection. 

Eyes roam to find the easiest way to go about it, and he settles on just booking it. The backdoor is located and he slides into the back alley between buildings. Water and debris make the lightest of noises underfoot until the cobblestone turns cleaner again on the main street. He moves as far as possible from the flood of lights, taking a breath before dashing from one side to the other and flattening himself to the concealed side of the wall. The seconds are counted and he stops breathing in order to try and hear if anyone or anything saw and is coming to investigate. When nothing happens, he finds the maintenance door. The lock is broken with a blunt hit from the armor covering his left arm, though this time he doesn’t stay around to check if the noise of it captured anyone’s attention. The heavy door is pulled open and closed quietly, the inside of the room looked over quickly. A set of metal stairs winds up to another door that reads ‘first floor’ on it in blocked letters of grey paint, and then upwards to what could only be the second. Unfortunately there’s no avoiding the small tinny sound of his footfalls on the aged and rusting metal steps. 

Upstairs is just as dark as the stairwell save for the bit of light that comes through the windows. The room is filled with furniture covered in plastic and old antique looking decor that probably isn’t antique at all. Hanzo stays low to the ground with his bow strung tight in both hands, eyes wandering as he moves. The only sounds that reach his ears are his heartbeat and the brush of fabric on his person. The communications have stopped altogether, and the room is still. 

Using it to get in contact with Genji seems like a waste now. It’ll be another risk to take to call out to him here but… Not too risky? “...Genji?” He whispers into the quiet of the room.

The soft whir of sound that accompanies his brother is the only warning he gets before he’s practically slammed into from behind. The wind is knocked out of him as arms wrap around his middle, far too strong to be anyone but Genji. The hands that dig fingers into the front of his jacket are metal and cold to the touch when he drops the pressure on his bow and places a hand overtop them. 

“Genji-” He starts to speak low before he’s interrupted.

_ “We HAVE to find him, Hanzo. If it is him, if it is Reyes, we have to find him. Now.” _ The words race out of Genji with a tightness and urgency that Hanzo can’t ignore. It doesn’t sound like Genji’s crying, but it’s too close for comfort. He trusts his brother more than anyone. He also likes to think he knows him better than anyone. Genji may have been an agent for much longer, better trained in how to handle these types of missions, but Hanzo still knows him. Being put under so much panic and pressure can either make or break him, and Hanzo isn’t about to allow the latter. 

Pulling the hands from his jacket, Hanzo turns around to properly face the paralyzing line of green that stares at him as if waiting for it - waiting for the words that will ground him.  _ “We will. You know how to do this, we have trained for this. Where did you last see McCree?” _

A shaking breath comes out muffled.  _ “He is here, in the residential district. He tried to say it over the comms but his must be broken.” _

He nods sharply and looks around the room they’re in. When he drops into a low crouch Genji follows him without question and they both make it to one of the few windows in the room. The glass is broken, and a quick look below shows the street still empty of any threats. His thoughts whizz around to try and come up with some safe way to figure out Jesse’s location. There has to be something better than just searching the whole district on foot. Realistically, he knew protocol would be to reconnect with the commander, then call for backup to find the missing agent. Any hope of that was thrown out when Genji made it so clear that he wouldn’t back down until Jesse is there to board the helicopter back to headquarters with them - if he even can when they find him. 

_ “Alright…” _ He sighs out an even breath and turns to face Genji.  __ “We will go to where the commander had him placed in the beginning. From there, we will track him down.”  
  


Now that there is some semblance of order in the chaos that Jesse’s disappearance had caused, Genji is quick to level his head out and get back into the game. The hand that reaches out is firm where it squeezes Hanzo’s arm. They both move in tandem. Getting through the city is faster, safer, more secure when Genji is at his back and covering any of his blind spots. They step concurrently with each other. Each move from Genji is followed perfectly by himself, or vice versa. Each jump from building to building is always made with a hand held out from the other side and Genji pulling him across the gap as if it’s nothing. No need for words, or explanation. Subtle tilts of his head or waves of his hand are enough for the other to understand his meanings completely. The metal of his brother’s armor on the stone or hitting the crumbled remains of a building are a constant reassurance that he’s there. He’s behind him, in front of him, by his side and alert for anyone who would dare to try anything against them. The silence of the search is interrupted a few times by Jack’s voice carrying through the communications line to try and get into contact with them. Hanzo gives a brief explanation of their plan. A look to one another is all it takes for them both to ignore the stream of threats of court martials or punishment for insubordination. Hanzo doesn’t fear taking the blame.

 

It takes longer than Hanzo would have liked to get back to where McCree had been stationed before the warfare had officially started and fucked everything over. Once there, their way is easily pinpointed by the array of bullet holes and ricochet marks that are scattered down one of the alleyways to the right. Walking further, Hanzo stops as he sees the glint of metal on the ground between stones. When he picks it up, the small shell catches the light. Cold, but definitely from Jesse’s pistol.     
  


It’s all too easy to follow and find where Jesse is held up. Behind the cover of some rubble, down a narrow alley, he’s hidden with his back against the wall. He’s out cold when they get there, hat at his side where’s he’s sat and face bloodied. A quick look over him shows that it looks much more gory than it truly is, with the blood dripping and smeared over the man’s face from a few identical, inch long slices on his cheeks. Hanzo can too easily imagine how Reaper had grabbed the man.    
  


The news is radio-ed in and the commander responds. It takes all of ten minutes for them all to reconvene. McCree’s weight is held up by Hanzo on one side and Genji on the other. It’s a risk to carry him with his feet dragging and his deadweight slowing them, but they can handle it. Have handled worse. From there, they vacate the premises as quickly as possible. Back at the hotel, Angela looks over Jesse and cleans each wound meticulously. Jack has clearly already been looked at, and Genji is revealed to only have a few hearty scratches in his armor, some bruising of his arm underneath. Nothing serious. 

“Commander, what was in the carrier?” Genji asks the elephant in the room only after the dust had settled as much as it could hope to. The atmosphere had been tense and didn’t seem to want to ease. Not after what Jesse had said. 

Across the room, the commander scoffed. It was rude, yet somehow characteristic. Hanzo glared from where he sat at the end of one of the beds with Genji. “Nothing.”

  
  
  


The set up was well planned. Talon had known where they would be, which shipment to rig, and where to place their own agents. It was perfect to the T. That knowledge followed them on the way back to the base. 

That morning Jesse had awoken, or more accurately had regained his consciousness. The initial grogginess led way to what could only been described as panic. Jack orders all of them but Angela and Jesse to pack up and wait for the designated vehicle meant to take them to the airport. Jack looks about ready to punch anyone who dared to mention any of what was taking place, so neither him nor Genji did. 

Tension rose all through the flight and didn’t break until halfway through the ride in the helicopter. Chilled wind whipped at Hanzo’s cheeks and all of them wore chunky, oversized headphones to protect their hearing and receive updates of their estimated arrival time. As well as to hear one another. Hanzo wishes that wasn’t the case when conversation starts and devolves quickly into an argument.

“It was  _ him _ . He’s alive, and he’s a traitor.” The words hardly left Jesse in time for the commander to berate him. 

“You have a serious head injury. Whatever you saw, it was a trick. Reaper was waiting, he knew our positions and you were the furthest from the objective-”

“I KNOW what I saw!” Jesse roars over the sound of the helicopter blades overhead. He surges forward to the edge of his seat, surely an attempt to land a hit on the commander. The way the aircraft moves and the injuries to his head make it much less of a threat. Angela still grabs for his arm.

“Back down, Jesse.” Jack hisses, the words sharper without the mask to dampen them. 

At Jesse’s side, Angela looks more than a bit uncomfortable with the situation. Her and Jack are close, that much has been obvious from the very beginning, but now with her arms wrapped around Jesse’s she looks unsure of who to talk to, who to stop. Hanzo thinks back to his first, miserable day on base. The woman had been the one to break up the fight between Jesse and himself. He wonders just how many times she’s had to do it, for Jesse or anyone else. With the way that Jesse is leaned forward in his seat, it seems to be a real possibility that she’ll have to do it again. 

Like always, Jesse doesn’t stop. “I don’t gotta listen to your bullshit! You didn’t see him, you were off doin’ who fuckin’ knows what while he had his dirty hands on my  _ throat! _ ” 

“Don’t you dare,” The man’s eyes may be unseeing, milky grey clouding the blue, but it sends chills down Hanzo’s spine how Morrison glowers directly at the younger agent. “You don’t talk about him, you don’t breathe a damn bad word about him. That thing can look like him, talk like him, but that  _ thing  _ is not Reyes. He’s  _ dead, _ buried. You were there and you gotta get it into your thick skull. He’s dead, and I was following orders, like you still can’t wrap your head around after all this damn time.” 

The look on Jesse’s face is seen by everyone but Jack. The reactions to the words is lost on him as he crosses his arms over his chest and slouches back into the seat. The deafening sound of the helicopter keeps it from falling silent, but had they been anywhere else, Hanzo can only imagine how it would be suffocating. It’s been too long since he’s heard anything so harsh. Passed harsh - venomous in how it obviously struck Jesse. Not to mention how much Jack had possibly unwittingly just revealed in his anger: he knows. He had already known what face is hidden underneath the ghastly mask. To his side, Genji has gone stock still while across from them, Angela moves in even closer to Jesse and starts speaking so that no one else can hear it, the private words swallowed by the background noise. It’s for the best, since the one short glance Hanzo had gotten made it clear Jesse would rather be anywhere else right now. The rim of his hat hides everything as he leans into Angela.    
  
  


Returning to base doesn’t fare much better. Morrison is the first to jump from the helicopter, roughly reminding the group that they all have to write up reports on the missions as soon as possible before he leaves towards the open bay doors. Angela and Jesse don’t wait around for long. Just enough for the doctor to explain that she’ll look at Jesse first, then check in with them later. A nice way of saying she needs to handle damage control before they wrap up the mission properly according to procedure. It leaves the brothers standing on the wet pavement alone save for the pilot and those moving in to deal with the equipment. 

“...We can write them up later.” The comment comes as a little surprise, only because of how Genji’s voice sounds. A bad mix of disappointed, hurt, and flat. It’s difficult to read it properly without any real visual hints, but the lifeless words give him an inclination of what the younger man might be feeling.

Hanzo thinks for probably too long on whether or not he should try and help now, or wait until they’re actually alone. The age old fear of getting caught in the act bubbles up in his stomach and wars with the awful dread that comes along with knowing Genji’s hurt. He has to do something. Anything to try and fix it, or at least soothe some of it. It’s doubtful that it will be completely fixed with Jesse out of reach, and nothing to really do about the situation, though. Fuck it. 

He shifts his bow onto his back and comes forward to wrap his arm around the small of Genji’s back. The ease at which his brother falls into his side is comforting, and also incomprehensible when they’re so public. Hanzo’s fingers rub over the softer, fleshier part of Genji’s side as he starts to guide them towards the door, making sure to stay out of the way of the technicians wrapping things up on the tarmac. 

_ “It’s okay,” _ He speaks in the softest tone he can manage, hardly more than a whisper. He’s never been the best at comforting words yet Genji melts just slightly into him.  _ “You can speak to him after. He is tough, and in good hands.”  _

Genji’s only response is a nod that only makes the feeling worse. For the first time, Hanzo desperately wants the mask to be off. Having the younger dragon so blocked off and hidden from him eats at him as they walk through the semi-quiet building. It must be early evening with how low the light is and the small amount of people left wandering. There’s no way to gauge what’s going on in Genji’s head. No subtle things to pick up on or even any fidgeting or differences in the man’s breathing. He’s silent as they walk, and as Hanzo unlocks the door to his room. Once inside he walks straight to the bed to sit down and start to take off the armor. Immediately Hanzo notices that he doesn’t start with the mask first.    
  


Hanzo leaves it alone for the time being. The door closes behind him and he goes about things as normal even with the feeling of dread settled so deep in his gut. It’s wrong, for what feels like the first time in months. Genji isn’t talking as they undress. He shakes his head when Hanzo asks if he wants to shower, so he goes on his own to brush his teeth and comb his hair out. When he comes back into the main room Genji’s already under the blankets. Hanzo doesn’t comment on how tightly the raggedy one from Genji’s room is wrapped around him, or how it isn’t shared when he joins him in bed. All the differences are abundantly clear, but there’s no point in saying anything about it. The lights are turned off, and an arm is offered out for Genji. To Hanzo’s relief, the younger dragon does curl up against the side of his chest.

_ “Do you need anything?”  _ He asks in the most hushed voice he can muster. Pushing never worked before, and it won’t work now, but leaving things as they are doesn’t feel right either. None of it sits right. The least he can do is offer more comfort if it’s needed.

_ “No. Just sleep.”  _ Genji answers just as quietly from where he’s tucked in so well. Nothing is obvious in his voice; it’s level and almost eerily calm in a way. Hanzo would call it detached if he didn’t know Genji better than that.  _ “I’m okay. Promise.” _

_ “Okay.” _ There’s no reason to argue it, so he lets the room go quiet. A soft kiss is placed to the crown of Genji’s head and soon his brother’s breath becomes heavier, just as his body does as he drifts into sleep. 

  
  


Hanzo has no recollection of when he fell asleep, but when he wakes it feels like it’s far too early. The room is dark - as always - when he blurrily blinks his eyes open. The first coherent thought is that the weight and warmth at his side is gone. Reaching out into the darkness to his side proves that the space is definitely empty, but more than that, the movement results in a soft sound a few seconds after. It’s muted; a quiet, distinct hitch of breath that’s closer to the head of the bed. Slowly, Hanzo sits up on an elbow and squints his eyes into the dark room to try and find any sign of the light glow he’s looking for. 

A scan of the room comes up with nothing. He doesn’t necessarily mean to wait for the next sound. His brain is working too slow to come up with any reasonable explanation for why Genji wouldn’t be there, so the time spent trying means he’s quiet until the next little hiccup comes louder than the first. 

_ “...Genji?” _ His voice rasps with dryness from sleep. 

The sob that comes as an answer pulls him from his stupor quicker than anything else ever could have. Turning the lights on would probably blind them both. A dumb idea. Instead he reaches out until his fingertips land on the soft, worn fabric that he’s come to know intimately. They barely stay there for a few seconds before it’s gone. Pulled away. 

As his eyes adjust, it’s still too dark to make out much other than the shape curled up at the head of the bed where the second pillow should be. He sits up properly and hesitates to move any closer. 

_ “Sparrow, what’s wrong?” _ He asks in a whisper.

There’s a shifting, and then the room is lit up dimly as the blankets around Genji presumably fall some. The halos of light on his stomach glare off the soft contours and metal lines of his body, and make it possible to see how the blankets shake along with his shoulders. It throws a wrench at Hanzo’s heart to see the tremors. Part of the lights are blocked by how Genji’s arms hug around his torso, and more than anything Hanzo wants to replace them with his own. 

Slowly, cautiously, Hanzo moves forwards. Without any answer to the question, it’d be stupid to move too quickly or do anything drastic. He knows how this works. He’s woken up and been lost in the past too many times, enough times to know that it’s dangerous to do anything sudden when Genji could very easily choke him out with one hand… as sad as that makes him. 

When he’s sat a few inches in front of Genji, he reaches out a hand to place it gently overtop of one of the gently shaking arms. Almost instantly Genji flinches back and whips his head up. His eyes stare forwards, wide and filled with tears as they try and get a proper look. It might not be a smart move, but Hanzo reaches forwards again to grasp his arm more firmly. Brown eyes flicker down in panic at the touch.

_ “No, sparrow, eyes on me.” _ There’s a firmness to Hanzo’s voice even as it remains quiet. It works to get Genji’s attention back up on him, but having it back pulls at the pain gathering in his chest.

Genji isn’t scared of him. This is a normal reaction. 

Genji isn’t perfect. Today was stressful. It triggered things for him. 

Panicking now will make it worse for him.

A slow breath leaves Hanzo.  _ “Good. It’s okay. I’m right here.” _ He keeps his gaze level with Genji’s and his voice calm and even. The next breath that leaves Genji is close to mimicking his own, only much more shaky and catch in the younger man’s throat halfway through. 

_ “Try again,”  _ He gives the skin under his hand a gentle squeeze, and when Genji tries again it’s a little bit better. The scarred cheeks in front of him are wet, glimmering with green light all the way down to the metal of his jaw. 

The arm in his hold starts to move. He retracts his hand at the slow movement, meaning to give Genji more space, but instead it brings another panicked expression to his face. Both arms fly towards him and wrap around his neck. The force of Genji against his chest is almost enough to knock him backwards if not for a hand thrown backwards to brace himself on the bed. Fingers bury into his hair and tug a little roughly as wetness meets the crook of his shoulder where Genji hides his face. Hanzo’s free hand quickly moves to hold the back of his brother’s hair tightly. 

_ “Why did he say that? Why wouldn’t he tell us? He would have told us. Reyes was - important. That is not Jack. That man- Hanzo, I don’t know him. Everything is wrong. Jack, Reyes, this-” _ A shuddering gasp interrupts the rush of words from Genji’s lips as it makes him shake against Hanzo. Instead of continuing, he dissolves into more sobs that push his breathing right back into quick gasps, too close to hyperventilating for Hanzo’s comfort. 

Not that any of it is comfortable. The words alone sink his stomach down the floor. ‘This’. What does ‘this’ mean in this context? The possibility of it meaning the two of them, in any context, brings anxiety crashing down onto him. The tight clench in his throat is pushed back in favor of blocking the fact to help as much as he can. 

_ “Genji, you have to breathe.” _ He reminds gently. His fingers card through the short, green locks as he trains his own breath into deep, even inhales and long exhales. His chest moves against Genji’s to help enforce the rhythm of it. His hand that was on the bed comes around to hug Genji and pull him closer so there isn’t any space between them. Genji’s arms shake where they hug around his neck, but once he’s so close to Hanzo he doesn’t try to talk again. It takes the better part of a minute for him to attempt to match up his breathing, and then longer for it to actually start to work. 

A tender hum leaves Hanzo where his lips brush over Genji’s ear.  _ “Precious dragon… You are still so delicate, aren’t you? The Jack you knew is not the same as the man with us today. Just as you and I are not the same as we used to be.” _

_ “He… He hurt Jesse.” _ Genji murmurs. It’s nearly childlike in how simple and drowned in tears it is. Hanzo closes his eyes and sighs, forcing thoughts of their younger years away.

_ “Jesse will be okay. As will you.” _ There isn’t much that can be said in explanation of Jack’s actions. Hanzo could try and guess, but logically speaking, Genji should have been the one who knew more about it than he did. Genji is the one who knew the man, but that clearly doesn’t count for much anymore. Whatever the reason, it was misguided. That much is obvious. 

A little nod can be felt against his shoulder as a lapse of silence comes upon the room. In his arms Genji’s focus seems to be on keeping his breathing at the same pace, so Hanzo keeps it up for him. It helps him in some ways, too. Even as he tries not to think about it, the words from before come back. Genji believes that something about the situation is wrong. He goes through everything he can think of to try and think of what it could possibly be. What could make his sparrow so upset that he would bring it up now, alongside everything else that’s going on? Nothing comes to mind other than the first few tense weeks of being together. And that… that seemed to be resolved after they had talked it over the first time. At least, it had seemed like it. Genji has seemed genuinely happy with him so far. Is he wrong about that? There’s too much that they haven’t spoken about. 

It’s risky to bring it up now, but leaving it for another time could be worse.  _ “Genji, you said something was wrong. What do you mean?” _ The question is posed gently, with a little kiss set on the lobe of Genji’s ear.

Still, his brother’s chest shakes on his next breath. It doesn’t devolve like the last time, thankfully. It’s worrying, still. Hanzo doesn’t dare push any further until Genji is ready to answer.

_ “I know what I am. Everything that has happened… it has all come to have a place in my life. I have learned to accept everything as it is, and as it will be. We cannot control our fate, only how we choose to handle it. Zenyatta, and the Shambali, they taught me how to be at peace with my body, and through that peace I forgave you. I forgive you. I love you so much, and it hurt for so long.” _

Once again, his brother’s words sound like someone else. They’re in his voice, and they’re full of the kindness that he’s come to expect out of him, even if they’re tinged with sadness. Angela’s words come back to the forefront of his mind, about how Genji had thought he hadn’t loved him anymore. Pain squeezes uncomfortably in his chest again. 

_ “Jesse, Angela, and Jack… they helped. Even Reyes. I tried to hate you but it never worked. I hated everyone else, but I could never hate you how I wanted to. I thought if I could show you how you hurt me, or if I could finish the job, then it would fix things. I thought you hated me. I know I was wrong. I know you were hurting, too. Being there made it impossible for either of us to be okay. I don’t blame you for what you did.”  _ Genji stops, going quiet for a moment.

Uncertainty creeps up at the way that the words seem unfinished.  _ “But…?” _

Genji shakes his head.  _ “No ‘but’. I love you.” _

_ “I love you, too.”  _ Hanzo swallows thickly, still unsure. Stopping there doesn’t feel right.  _ “...Why did you join Overwatch?” _

The question seems to surprise Genji. There’s no way for Hanzo to read his expression with how he still has his cheek leaning on his shoulder. It’s the time it takes for him to answer and the tone in his voice that shows the surprise.  _ “I… did not have much of a choice. They never gave me one. It was either join Blackwatch, or they would stop rebuilding me. I was hardly alive when I agreed.” _

Hanzo feels sick at the way it’s worded. They didn’t give him a choice. He would have died if he hadn’t of agreed to work for them. For Overwatch… for Jack.  _ “You said you hated Jack…” _

_ “I blamed him for keeping me alive.” _ Genji says simply, without much feeling to it. As if reading it off of a piece of paper instead of talking about himself. 

_ “Yet you are crying about him now.” _

Genji gives a wet little laugh.  _ “You always were so sensitive to others. Yes, I am crying about him.” _

_ “Sorry. I promise I am trying.”  _ Hanzo reaches his hand around to trace the pad of his thumb along the line where skin joins metal on Genji’s jaw.  _ “I want to understand.” _

_ “Okay.” _ He leans into the touch gently.  _ “I did hate him. I hated Jesse and Gabe at first, too. I was angry at everyone. Jack was the one who approved anything that was done to me. As Strike Commander, everything came back to him. I hardly ever spoke to him, but he knew everything. He looked at me like… a weapon. _

_ I was a weapon, that is what they had made me into. I…” _

Hanzo gave him a few seconds to continue, but it never came.  _ “Genji…?” _

_ “I did not just agree because I had no choice. When they asked… I asked for something in return.”  _ Every word sounds tight and tinged with guilt. It twists Hanzo’s insides. He doesn’t interrupt or stop him, though he feels like he might not want to know what’s coming next. Many things about Genji’s past seem to give him that foreboding feeling.

_ “I asked for revenge. I wanted to kill you.”  _

The words stop Hanzo’s heart for a second. Genji isn’t following along to his breath anymore, and Hanzo knows there’s no excuse to be made for how he starts to breathe in deeper - other than he needs it. Needs to remind himself that this is past tense. This is something Genji wanted. He can’t judge. He took a blade to Genji’s skin and he’s known all along that the other dragon has, and always will have every right to do it in return. Somehow… being with him, like this, it quieted the voices saying he deserves it. He became comfortable enough to forget that. 

Dark lashes flutter as Genji’s eyes close and his breath comes out in a shudder. His arms stay tight around Hanzo’s neck as his fingers move over the short hair at the back of his neck.  _ “I wanted to hate you because what you had done hurt so deeply. I never could. I hated myself instead. Everyone… They helped stop me from ruining myself until I could heal. Even if the intentions were not pure, Jack and Gabriel kept me alive. I am sorry. I am so sorry, I… could not keep it from you. I had to tell you. There is so much you don’t know.” _

Hanzo pushes back every instinct that tells him he doesn’t want to know. He does. He wants to know so badly, he feels as if it’s pulling at him so hard it may rip him to pieces with it’s force. He can hardly breathe.  _ “For what I did to you, I deserve much more than your hate. You had every right to desire revenge. You still do. My life is yours, little dragon. You do with it as you please.” _

The tremble that works its way through Genji’s core is as tangible as the tension in the air.  _ “Stop… Stop,” _ His breath is wet and choked, his breath hot where it puffs against Hanzo’s neck.  _ “Stop hating yourself. You are too precious! Stop willing yourself to die in my name, for my honor, in redemption! You have it! I am sick of you being scared, brother, of me!” _

_ “I am not-” _

_ “You ARE!”  _ Genji’s voice raises and the mechanism that should keep the levels under control seems to not work fast enough. It goes high with a glitch. Yet it sounds so similar to how he used to yell in the hall of their childhood home - fed up with Hanzo’s actions and throwing a tantrum.  _ “I am not DELICATE! WE are not delicate, Hanzo! You do not owe me, I do not want you to. Please. Please, I cannot lose you, too… Not you.” _

Had it been before, the younger Shimada would have been stomping his feet and fighting to get his way. Now, his arms tighten to be near painful around Hanzo’s shoulders, as if he’s afraid to be too far away. It brings the 

smallest of warm feelings to his stomach to think about it. The fear of his sparrow being afraid of him eases so easily with little moments like this - when he shows how much he wants to be near him still. 

_ “You have me.” _ Hanzo reassures.

_ “Then you will act like it. No more stepping on glass, no more caution. Love me, anija, no holding back. You cannot hurt me.” _

The words set a fire in his gut, burning low and insistent from his dragon’s mouths. The second of doubt is swallowed by the flames - he can’t hurt Genji. If he wanted it to be so, Genji could have him broken and bent in any shape he pleased, even with all the hours of training he has gone through. He will never be a match for his little brother. They may both be wonders, born within ashes, destined to share their fate… But Genji now holds all the glory, magnificent and glowing. No amount of blood on his own hands could ever ruin, or taint, or nullify the beauty that he’s created of himself. How many times? How many occasions would Hanzo have to be reminded before he could remember, no matter what, the young dragon cannot be bested, not by the likes of him.  
  
_ “Tell me. I will love you, sparrow. Always. Tell me everything.” _ His arm grips around Genji’s waist, feeling firm and unyielding pseudo skin beneath his fingers. Pulling the younger man to his chest, a long moment is spent drinking in the rise and fall of his chest, knowing the strength that each breath, each heartbeat, held within. 


End file.
